


Compassion and Perspective, Divine Enablers of an Ineffable Plan

by CynSyn



Series: Is This The World We Created? [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angry Aziraphale (Good Omens), Angry Gabriel (Good Omens), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Art, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), Catatonic, Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Digital Art, Dreamsharing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fallen Angels, Fanart, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Hell Trauma, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Indifferent Uriel (Good Omens), M/M, Metaphors, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), POV Crowley (Good Omens), Please Don't Copy to Other Sites, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Canon, Prayer, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), References to Depression, Sad Michael, Temporary Character Death, Wings, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), Worried Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-08-11 12:29:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 28,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20153602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynSyn/pseuds/CynSyn
Summary: God has a sense of humor. She hasn’t changed them, but they changed themselves without ever knowing it. They have grown beyond their previous descriptions. She has repurposed them to make them aware of their abilities.God needs someone to clean up a series of messes after the Really Big Avocado That Wasn't, and who better than the pair that stopped it to begin with?With great power comes great... well, something.OrAziraphale and Crowley aren't as retired as they thought.





	1. Play the Game

**Author's Note:**

> I have a basic outline and a lot of parts already written, but I'm still working out a few things, so there shouldn't be much time between updates, hopefully.
> 
> I will be updating tags as I go. I threw a few up in here, but I don't want to spoil too much just yet.
> 
> The chapter titles are taken from Queen songs that I felt fit the theme of each chapter, either in title or in lyric.

If one were to say it was a day like any other, it would be a lie. Whether or not intentional, it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t be true either way. But one _could _say that while the events of the day would appear to be life-altering, nothing had actually _changed_ in the grand scheme of things. At least, nothing _new_, anyway.

Crowley sat, playing with his phone, on a bench outside of the church. Aziraphale was inside, having been invited to a christening by one of his bookseller friends. Having an excess of free time since their retirement/sacking from their respective offices, Crowley offered to give him a lift and wait for him. He was certain the angel would want to grab a bit of lunch after, and he didn’t have anything else to do, so on the bench he sat.

He hadn’t quite anticipated it taking as long as it did. It was just a baby. _They aren’t that big. _He thought to himself_. It doesn’t take much to cover them._ He wondered what the hold up was and realized that he really had no idea how those things worked to begin with. It was probably fine. His curiosity got the better of him and he decided to pull up some videos of how it worked on his phone.

“Oh, this is so dreary,” he groaned as his top half somehow got lower than his bottom half on the bench. “That baby doesn’t even know what’s happening. They’re just dressing it up and getting it wet to pass it around and take pictures,” he said to no one in particular.

Eventually, he stopped watching videos. Save for one where the baby had peed into the font, they were all pretty much the same. He really wasn’t all that interested in it to begin with, so he went back to playing games on his phone. After all, that candy wasn’t going to crush itself.

The combined lack of mischief due to no longer being in Hell’s employ and current lack of his favorite angel made him antsy. _This is why Aziraphale calls me a toddler_, he thought. _A squirmy toddler that can’t sit still_.

It wasn’t that he thought the angel was _wrong_. He just didn’t want him to think he was _right_.

He was going to need to find something to do. Something just ridiculous enough to be entertaining, while just normal enough to have plausible deniability.

It was at that moment that inspiration struck. There it was, a hugely hairy dog dragging along someone on the other end of the leash that likely would have been better suited to put a saddle on the dog for riding instead of walking it. Surely, no one would think it out of the ordinary were the dog to slip out and give a good chase. But what to chase?

He looked around, trying to find the most effective, but least dangerous solution to this problem. There was no sense in anyone actually getting hurt. He may have been a demon, but he wasn’t a complete bastard. Suddenly, as if by Divine Intervention, a breeze rustled through the trees, opening a perfect beam of sunlight to spotlight his target.

Oh, Lor-, Sa-, _Somebody_, he was about to tempt a squirrel.

But how to do it? Tempting humans was one thing, but an animal? What would he even say?

“Oi, squirrel! What are you doing?” _What is wrong with me?_ He thought to himself, shaking his head. “Aziraphale’s right. I am a toddler,” he said under his breath._ Well, in for a penny, in for a pound,_ he thought. _Let’s get on with it_.

He decided that tempting a squirrel might not be the best way to achieve his goal. Animals generally didn’t care too much for him. He doubted he would be able to get close enough to try tempting even if he had any idea of how to go about it.

But he _could_ pester it. He grinned, rubbing his hands together. Yes, that he could do very easily. He expanded his energy out, focusing towards the squirrel. It didn’t really matter what he said or thought at this point, as it was all static and panic to the animal, but just in case, he added a _BOO_ for good measure. He really was bored, after all. Logic and reason don’t always match up in these situations.

Regardless of how it happened, it was an extremely effective first domino in the chain reaction. The squirrel shot out, zig-zagging along the path. It caught the attention of the dog, who dragged the human along, who tripped over another bench, dropping the leash. The dog chased the squirrel up the steps of the church just as the doors opened and people had begun filing out.

_Oh, no_.

Oh, that did not go as planned, _at all_.

He jumped up off of the bench to start walking up, hoping to catch Aziraphale as he came out. His imagination was running wild trying to come up with some sort of explanation for what happened that wouldn’t end with him being reminded that he was somewhere around 66.6 times older than the average human lifetime and he could very well start acting like it.

There were screams, shrieks, and various other sounds of disastrous disarray as the two animals gave chase around the sanctuary. The dog’s leash whipped around behind it, catching on one of the legs of the christening font, wrapping around as it gave further chase to the squirrel, and tipping it over. The dog was fully drenched when the squirrel bolted back through the doors. The leash broke as the dog ran past Aziraphale, who had seen the whole thing, and back out the door on the squirrel’s heels.

Aziraphale turned around just in time to see that the animals were headed straight for Crowley. He started running and reached his hands out, screaming as he watched the squirrel dart between Crowley’s legs and the wet dog slam into the demon, unable to even snap his fingers before the impact. Horrified, he watched as Crowley was knocked to the ground.

And then he watched him stand back up, wiping his wet face with his sleeve.

“Oh, I smell like wet dog now,” the demon growled.

Aziraphale just stood there frozen, his eyes wide. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“What’s the matter with you? I’m the one who was viciously attacked by a dripping mongrel.”

Aziraphale could only look him up and down, the look of panic still on his face.

Crowley’s brows furrowed as he stared back at Aziraphale for a moment before continuing to brush himself off. Slowly, his eyebrows began to rise along with his face, meeting the angel’s eyes once more.

“That… that was…” The demon stammered.

“Holy water,” the angel somehow managed to choke out.


	2. Keep Yourself Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When all is said and done, where do you go from there?

If the the whole of the Holy Water incident hadn’t been enough, the state of disarray Crowley found himself in after would be. Lunch was very clearly off. Crowley wasn’t ready to use any demonic intervention to clean himself up because the last time he used his powers he ended up on his back, with his legs in the air, covered in Holy water and dog residue. Aziraphale hadn’t used a miracle because until he knew what was happening, he was too terrified to risk adding any more holiness while Crowley was still damp, in case it pushed the current limit of the demon’s tolerance, whatever that was. They drove back to the bookshop in silence, neither one really sure what to say or how to even ask the other.

Once they were inside of the bookshop, Aziraphale was the first to break the silence.

“Go… Go get out of those wet clothes and take a shower right now.” His eyes looked down as if deep in thought. It wasn’t that he was trying to be bossy or demanding. He simply _needed_ to know that there was no longer any residual Holy water on his favorite demon.

The demon nodded as he headed upstairs. “Right.”

“I’ll be up momentarily to bring you something clean to wear and take away what you’ve got on now.”

The demon grunted an affirmation as he passed through the doorway.

“Take your time and make sure you get every drop scrubbed away,” Aziraphale called out.

Crowley popped his head back through the doorway and took a breath as if to remind him that he was not, in fact, a toddler, but one look at the discomfort on the angel’s face changed his mind. He closed his mouth and nodded his head.

As soon as he heard the shower running, Aziraphale collapsed into a chair, holding his face in his hands. It took quite a bit to shake the former Principality, but this had done it. His shoulders trembled with silent sobs as everything repeated through his mind. Once again, he watched in horror as it all played back in slow motion, feeling every emotion scraping along the rawness of where they had ripped through him less than an hour before.

_I almost lost him._

“But you didn’t.” He said aloud to ground himself. His hands settled into adjusting the buttons on his waist coat as he stood up to pace around. “He… He is upstairs. He’s fine.” He pressed his hands palms down as he spoke the words, as if somehow that would force more meaning into them. “We’re home now. He’s fine. He’s in the shower and he’s fine. It’s going to be okay. He’s _fine_.”

_But how?_

Though still confused, he had managed to calm himself down enough that he could keep his wits together, at least for a bit. The last thing he wanted to do was fall apart in front of Crowley. He decided it was safe enough to make his way to the bathroom to collect the wet clothing and replace it with clean.

Soon after, Crowley came back downstairs, his hair still slightly damp, but otherwise scrubbed clean.

“Angel, I think we need to talk about what… what happened.”

“Yes, I rather think we do. But not just yet, please. I…” His voice trailed off as he looked up at the demon and then back away again, turning around.

Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel, squeezing gently. “Of course, anything you need.” He rested his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. The angel placed a gentle kiss along the demon’s temple, breathing him in. He smelled of shampoo and soap without a single trace of wet dog anywhere.

_He’s here. He’s home. He’s fine_.

“Right,” said Crowley as he begrudgingly unwrapped himself from their embrace, offering his phone to Aziraphale. “Why don’t you go ahead and pick out something to order for lunch? Anything you want.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Scotch.”

“That sounds good. I think I’ll have that as well.”

“You don’t want something to nibble?”

“I didn’t say that.” He took the phone.

Crowley went into the back to get a bottle of scotch and two glasses. He heard Aziraphale laughing from the other room and smiled as he walked back in. “What’s so funny?”

“He’s peeing in the water.”

Crowley laughed softly as he offered a glass to Aziraphale. “Yeah, I was curious how all that worked. He looked like a little fountain, didn’t he?”

“That’s not strictly how it happens, usually. And yes, I rather think he did.” He grinned back at the demon.

After a few more videos, several more drinks, and a bite to eat, Aziraphale was feeling a bit better. He still wasn’t sure if he was quite ready to talk about what happened.

“I’m really sorry about upsetting you earlier, Aziraphale.”

_Oh, no._

Aziraphale held his glass a little tighter, realization dawning on him. “So that was all _your_ demonic work?”

“It wasn’t my fault that the doors opened up when they did,” Crowley said desperately.

“Of- Of all the ridiculous… You… You… Do… Do you realize what you could have done?” The sputtering angel was just this side of livid.

Crowley took another sip. “Yes, but that’s not what happened, now, is it?”

“Did you _know_ that it wouldn’t, though? Wouldn’t happen, that is?”

“Well, I certainly didn’t _expect_ it to happen, now, did I? What kind of an idiot do you take me for?”

Aziraphale took a breath and opened his mouth to speak.

“Don’t,” Crowley interrupted, pointing at him.

The angel glared at him.

“Anyway,” the demon continued, “It’s not exactly going to help anything to keep chasing after that.”

“You mean like a squirrel?” The angel said sarcastically.

“You didn’t _see_ it, Aziraphale,” the demon said, almost frantically.

“I saw plenty!” Aziraphale’s voice was in a slightly higher pitch than usual.

“No, not that. Before that. It was literally lit up in the shade by Someone’s celestial laser pointer.”

“I’m sure it was.” The angel spoke flatly.

“It _was_.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

Aziraphale couldn’t believe just how casual Crowley was being about the whole thing. He could have been destroyed. Not discorporated, which would still be extremely inconvenient as they had no idea if they’d ever be able to replace these bodies, _Oh, you wicked serpent, that’s another thing I’m mad at you for risking_, but to be actually destroyed and blink out of existence, never to exist again.

If Crowley wasn’t going to see value his own life, Aziraphale would just have to hit him where it could.

“You would have left me here all alone.”

“Oh, that’s… That’s not fair, Angel. That’s dirty.” A look of guilt washed over his face as he spoke. “I wouldn’t ever want that.”

“And yet…” Aziraphale’s voice trailed off as he pressed his lips tightly together.

“But it was an accident!”

Aziraphale was getting angry. Really, properly angry. Being angry felt better than being scared, for the moment, at least. It was unlike him, and he knew it, but being this angry was a distraction and he welcomed it.

“Look,” the demon continued, “It was taking awhile. I got bored—”

“You got _bored?!_?” He was seething at this point.

“Yes, Aziraphale. I got bored.” He stood up to pace around as he spoke. “I have _been_ bored, Angel! There isn’t anything _to do_ anymore. I never liked working for Hell, but at least it kept me busy. I needed a distraction. You’re the only interesting thing in my life anymore, and you were where I couldn’t be.”

“You were…” Aziraphale was, at this point, so angry he could barely speak.

“You wouldn’t understand, Aziraphale.”

That was the last straw.

“I wouldn’t _understand_? I don’t think _you_ understand!” He was shaking the glass in his left hand towards Crowley as he spoke. “What if you looked up and suddenly I was in the middle of Hellfire?”

And as soon as he said it, his hand burst into flames, igniting his drink. A look of terror crossed both of their faces.

“What are you doing?” Crowley screeched, rushing over to try to extinguish it.

They sat in silence for a bit, staring back and forth at one another and Aziraphale’s unscathed hand.

Crowley finally broke the silence. “How… did you do that?”

“I… I don’t know. I didn’t know I could.”

“I can’t even do that.”

“You can’t?” Aziraphale said in a small voice. Fear was creeping back in.

Crowley could see the conclusion he thought Aziraphale was coming to and quickly decided to put that to rest. “No, I can’t just summon it like that. Not that quickly, and certainly not out of nowhere,” he replied softly. “That’s not a normal thing for a demon.”

“When… When was the last time you tried? If you’ve tried, that is. Have you?” The look on Aziraphale’s face was almost heartbreaking at this point.

Crowley just wanted to make that feeling go away for his angel. He couldn’t bear to see him so stricken. “Honestly, as an actual, proper demon, I’d likely have just as much luck trying to summon Holy water.” And to prove his point, he sat his scotch on the table and waved his right hand over it. The liquid, once a deep and rich brown, immediately cleared. It sparkled with a platinum radiance.

The two stared at one another. They had been doing quite a bit of that today.

“What is happening?” They said in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's going to probably go back and forth like this in some chapters. I'm not necessarily planning a lot of angst and hurt, but some is necessary to move the story forward.


	3. Somebody To Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes when you don't pay attention to signs from God, she has to sit you down herself for a chat.

While it wasn’t late by any means, it had grown dark out. Though neither of them were strictly required to sleep, they both were exhausted. It had been quite some time since they last had a day filled with this much excitement.

Without a word, the two of them went upstairs and quietly got ready for bed. Wrapped up in one another, secure knowing that the other half of their heart was beating safely next to them, they drifted off to sleep and began to dream.

_That’s new_, Crowley thought as he saw Aziraphale sitting down across from him, looking down at a chess board.

Aziraphale looked up at him. “What’s new?”

“The chess set,” Crowley replied. “Wait, you could hear me?”

“Of course I could hear you. You’re in my dream.”

“I’m not.” Crowley said. “You’re in mine.”

“Actually,” a third voice spoke as she sat down at the table, “You’re both in mine.”

They both looked up at the figure, unable to focus their eyes enough to really see her. She was unmistakably there, next to them, but somehow also far away. Her appearance might have been more accurately described as the tangible idea of a memory that smelled like hot cocoa, old books, honeysuckle, suntan lotion, warm sand, shampoo, leather, fresh pancakes, lemons, maple syrup, hot coffee, and a wood burning stove on a cold winter morning.

“We need to talk.”

The angel and the demon looked at one another, and then back at the third party.

“You two,” she began, “are two halves of a whole idiot sometimes.”

Their eyes grew wide until she smiled at them. They couldn’t strictly _see_ it, but the warmth of the smile was unmistakable.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for quite some time. Aziraphale,” she turned to him, “I do regret that you had to become so angry and hurt today, but I assure you, it was necessary.”

Aziraphale stiffened slightly. “God?”

She winked at him with her faceless face, and somewhere a flower bloomed.

“And you,” she said, turning to Crowley as she began sliding chess pieces back and forth, “Well, I actually thought I could have just dangled something shiny in front of you and it would have lead you right to it. When you didn’t actually take my first hint, I had to get… Creative.” She raised her hands up, curling her fingers like little paws, and squeaked.

“I _knew_ that squirrel was lit up! I told you so, Aziraphale!” The demon grinned, defiantly shaking his head in smug satisfaction.

The angel just looked at him with a half-grin, half-grimace, shaking his head in sarcastic agreement.

“Compelled by _GOD HERSELF_.” Crowley swept his hands exaggeratingly towards Her as he grinned at Aziraphale.

She laughed softly. “I have missed you, my Crowley.”

His face fell. He spoke before he could stop himself. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“I was always watching, you know,” she said gently. “I heard every prayer.”

“But you never…” He looked downward.

“I couldn’t. It wasn’t the right time. I know you know that.”

He sighed. “I do.”

“I’m not angry with you that you don’t like that.”

“I am.”

“I know.”

The three of them sat in silence as she continued to move chess pieces around on the board.

Crowley had been watching, trying to see the pattern. Suddenly, he tilted his head up at her. “_What_ first hint?”

“The video. I thought you might have tried to go into the church to recreate it,” she grinned.

Crowley’s eyes widened.

“You actually wanted Crowley to urinate into a christening font?” Aziraphale blurted out, horrified.

Both God and Crowley looked at Aziraphale as if he had said, well, exactly what he said. They replied in unison, “The _baby_.”

“Oh, oh I see. Well, I suppose that does make more sense,” Aziraphale said with quiet embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to question.”

Crowley shot him a look of concern, not for himself, but for what he was certain he could feel radiating off of his angel.

“You may ask, Aziraphale.” God softened. “This is why I’m here with you now.”

“Why did you give us these abilities today?”

“None of this is new, Aziraphale. You’ve both been able to do these things for quite some time now.”

“But, I haven’t… We haven’t.”

“Have you ever tried?” She asked, in the way a parent would ask a child to do something they were too afraid of.

“Well, no, I suppose not.”

With realization dawning on him, Crowley did what he did best. He asked a question. “How long?”

“Since you delivered the Antichrist. Well, handed him over.” She took a red and black stacked checker out and knocked all of the chess pieces off of the board.

“Th-, that’s not in the rules,” Crowley said softly as he watched her level the playing field.

She looked at him, cocking her head as a whisper of a grin threatened the corner of her unseen mouth.

“Neither is a demon who could convince an angel to love so fully that they would defy Heaven and Hell to protect one another and the world that they have grown, in their own ways, to cherish.”

“Point taken.”

She took out a white six-sided die with gold dots and placed it beside the stacked checker.

“I think it is important to explain to you that, strictly speaking, I didn’t _give_ you these abilities. You both grew into them. The two of you have been so intertwined in one another that you’ve blended into something extraordinary. Your purposes complimented each other, as they always had. Without even understanding your own potentials, between the two of you, you have already accomplished incredible things. Imagine what you could be capable of if only you understood what you could do.”

In spite of the fear of loss he couldn’t help feel, Crowley asked quietly, “And what would that be?”

“More.”

She placed her left hand over Crowley’s heart.

“You, who has been through literal Hell, who understands despair, who would risk eternal torment to give love, to spare pain, and to protect the innocent. You are my Compassion.”

He gasped softly, his closed eyes glistening with tears.

Without removing her hand from Crowley, she turned to Aziraphale, placing her right hand on his forehead.

“You, who carefully considers multiple sides, who chose peace over war, who walked among angels to look past the restrictions of Heaven and saw it fit to encourage informed choice and balance to do the right thing. You are Perspective.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he smiled.

“Please join hands,” she commanded, gently, and they did so.

“Together, you are my Epiphany. You are the balance and the understanding. Your gifts will serve not as a judgement, but as an answer. You are tasked with keeping my children on the correct path, whatever that path may become. Decision will not fall upon you. You are only to enact _their_ will. It will manifest through your actions as is meant to be.”

“As you have chosen to join together, in love and understanding, you honor my will. As such, you are the manifestation of my blessings.”

Her left hand began to glow with a silvery radiance. The light coursed forward into Crowley’s heart, flowing down his arms and through his hands into Aziraphale’s own.

At the same time, her right hand, still resting upon Aziraphale’s head, shone with a golden splendor. It spread down his face and along his arms, pulsing into Crowley’s hands.

Between them, the game pieces began to glow with matching light.

When they opened their eyes, they were back in their bedroom, lying facing one another, their hands still joined. As the morning sunlight shone through the window on their faces, they both began to laugh, feeling lighter than they ever had in thousands of years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up rushing to get this chapter out to get the first parts of the story on the ground. I probably won't be doing more than one chapter a day, and might even go a few days in between here and there, because I'm also working on some [art projects](https://amadness2method.tumblr.com/post/186787724716/update-i-work-with-paintnet-and-a-mouse-my) and just got replacements for the broken equipment that stopped me from working on my art stuff to begin with. I will do my best not to leave too large of a cliffhanger for very long.


	4. A Kind Of Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley have less than a morning to settle into their new roles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied. Here is another update.
> 
> Be on the lookout for this to be continued tomorrow, as I've already written the next chapter. It was a bit longer than others in a way that felt too uneven, but I was able to pull some of it into this current chapter without ruining the flow.

They lingered for awhile before getting out of bed. They were basking in the most incredible afterglow of their lives. They were together, safe, and happy. While Crowley hadn’t been Officially Forgiven, and he understood why, he still had Her love, and that was Enough. They had been blessed by God Herself. The two of them had been given renewed purpose, and in that, they were officially on the same side.

Like many other glowing bubbles of love and joy, it burst when bare feet hit the floor.

“It’s too much. It’s too much power for any one side to have.” Aziraphale fretted uncomfortably as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Eh… Is it, though?” Crowley questioned, moving over next to the angel.

Aziraphale looked at him with a pained expression, but said nothing.

“Well, not…. Not really,” Crowley continued. “We’re not really _deciding_ anything, are we?”

“Aren’t we?” Aziraphale looked ill.

“Ngk… er, no, no, I don’t think so. It’s… Well, it’s just like with the humans, innit? Tempting and Blessing, but we’re doing it to the other Tempters and Blessers.”

“That’s hardly the same thing.”

“You never _actually_ told a human to explicitly do anything you tried to tempt or bless them to do. You put the _idea_ in their head and let them come to their own conclusion, right?”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“You may have guided them this way or that, by giving them more information than they had before, or maybe just a new way of looking at what they already knew, but ultimately, they made the decisions themselves.”

“Perhaps,” the angel agreed.

Crowley suddenly looked more confused than usual. “Since when do you question God’s Will, anyway?”

Aziraphale looked horrified. “I’m doing no such thing! I’m questioning _our will_! How are _we_ supposed to know what to do with ethereal and occult beings,” he began fidgeting in a way Crowley hadn’t seen since before their trials, “especially those who had been above us in our respective offices?”

Crowley stilled Aziraphale’s hands by taking them into his own. “We’re just the precipitating event, the… the catalyst. _They_ get to decide. She is finally granting them Free Will, Aziraphale, not just some misguided sense of false duty.” The demon’s eyes were growing wider with excitement.

“But what if they decide wrong?”

“Then that’s their choice, and they get to choose that with a greater understanding.”

“But there’s still going to be a punishment.”

“Eh… m-maybe? But hasn’t there always been? We lived over 6000 years on Earth looking over our shoulders, worried about what someone else might decide we had done wrong. But that’s not going to happen here. _We_ aren’t deciding _anything_. They are _choosing_ the next step in their path. Just like we did. Well, maybe not just like we did. It took us over 6000 years to get here. We’re sort of fast-tracking it for them. Like an express lane.” He thought for a moment before coming back around to his point. “Anyway, they are _choosing_ to continue their role or to accept the consequences. And the consequences, this, this punishment aspect, I think you’re viewing this as black and white, but it isn’t, not anymore. It’s glorious shades of grey. Justice doesn’t necessarily mean punishment any more than healing means encouragement.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth as if to ask another question, but closed it with a small raise of his eyebrows as he considered it.

“The point is,” Crowley continued, “that we _don’t know_.”

Aziraphale furrowed his brow as he met the gaze of his other half.

“Oh, don’t make me say it, Angel,” Crowley whined.

A bright and shining grin slowly crept up Aziraphale’s face.

“All right, fine,” he groaned and continued in an exaggeratingly lilting tone as he shook his head, sarcastically. “It’s ineffable.” Crowley pretended not to hear the delighted squeak Aziraphale made. It was easier than pretending he didn’t love the sound of his angel’s joy. “We are meant to be the Divine Enablers of an Ineffable Plan.”

Aziraphale’s face began to cloud slightly as he thought more on what Crowley had just said about their own past. “We rather did waste a lot of time in fear of what would happen…”

“Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself, Angel.”

“But all that lost time,” he looked up at him sadly.

“I said don’t, Aziraphale.” He put his hand on the back of his angel’s neck, steadying him to look in his eyes. The demon’s words were firm, but laced with incredible kindness. “Every wobbling, unsteady step brought us to where we needed to be.” Aziraphale smiled gently as he recalled a certain demon’s wobbling, unsteady steps down the aisle of a church in 1941. Crowley saw the smile and wondered if he was thinking of the same thing. “Here, now, the two of us together, me and you. We have learned so much being up here on Earth, Aziraphale. There’s a reason neither of us fits in Heaven or Hell. There’s a reason we’re on our own side.” He sighed, rubbing his thumbs along the sides of the angel’s neck lovingly. “I don’t think either of us could really understand it without that perspective.”

“I thought perspective was my job,” Aziraphale spoke softly through a gentle smile.

Crowley grinned at him, remembering a time in Rome long ago when the tables had been turned. He wondered how many times he would fall for this angel. He hoped it would be many, many more.

“Perhaps the mirror cannot view itself.”

“_Really_?”

Crowley closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows, drawing in a sharp breath to speak. “I may have thought that would sound far more poetic in my head.”

“Oh, it was, my dear. Pure poetry.”

“Shut up,” the demon grinned.

“Perhaps it should be recorded for all of posterity.”

“You really are a bit of a bastard, you know that?”

Aziraphale just smiled.

“Right. I’m going to head downstairs for some coffee. Shall I bring you a cup of tea?” Crowley offered as he stood up.

“That would be lovely, my dear,” he replied as the demon gently kissed the inside of his wrist before going downstairs.

The door to the bookshop slammed open suddenly as a bolt of grey and amethyst burst through it.

“**_AZIRAPHALE! CROWLEY! GET OUT HERE, YOU BASTARDS!!!_**” Anything in the bookshop that didn’t shake after that was only still because it had already fallen to the ground.

Crowley shot out of the back room, teeth bared and wings out.

“What do you want with Aziraphale?” He hissed.

Aziraphale was running down the stairs when he saw Crowley’s wings unfurl. Without thinking twice, he had his own out before he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Why can’t I ever seem to be done with you two traitors? I thought at _least_ if you two were going to stay on Earth, I wouldn’t have to look at your smug faces ever again.”

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale responded coolly, “You came _here_. We haven’t left Earth since the executions.”

“Oh, really? Then why did I get a memo from the head office that the two of you are to be granted full access to all records and every single office in the entirety of Heaven and Hell?”

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged surprised looks.

“We weren’t aware of that part,” Aziraphale answered.

“She never mentioned that,” Crowley almost whispered.

“_She_?” Gabriel’s eyes widened. “She spoke to you? No one has heard from Her in millennia, and you expect me to believe that She spoke to a couple of blasphemous fornicating traitors?”

“Oi, watch your language, there. There’s no need to be rude, you bloody wanker.”

Aziraphale cut his eyes at Crowley. “Yes, as a matter of fact, She did. Apparently, Crowley and I have been… _reassigned_, as it were.”

“Reassigned? To what?”

“Think of us as celestial auditors,” Crowley drawled, enjoying the irony of it all.

“And just who do you answer to?”

“_God Herself_,” Crowley’s eyes widened, smiling as he spoke.

Gabriel was so angry that his face threatened to turn a similar shade to his eyes.

“Look,” Aziraphale said as he carefully sidled between the two. “Being angry won’t make it any less true,” he said to Gabriel before turning his head to Crowley. “And being a bastard won’t make it any more legitimate.”

“Well,” Crowley spoke from behind Aziraphale’s shoulder, “Now that you’ve been informed, there’s really no reason for you to stick around. You know where the door is.”

There was so much ice in Gabriel’s eyes it was hard to fathom anything else could exist in them. “That’s not the only reason I’m here. Apparently, I’m also supposed to set up some sort of meeting with the two of you.”

“A meeting? For what?” Crowley asked.

“My dear, I do believe he’s here for an audit.”

“Is that so?” Crowley looked somber.

“What are you two talking about?” Gabriel asked.

They stood side by side in front of the Archangel, joining hands between them.

“It’s time,” they spoke in unison. Aziraphale raised his right hand while Crowley lifted his left, their opposite hands still joined between them.

Silver and gold sparks began to swirl around Gabriel, causing him to stumble back. “What are you doing?” He asked, looking more nervous than he had in his entire existence.

“What must be done,” the two voices replied simultaneously, their wings enclosing the three of them as the glow around Gabriel expanded between black and white feathers.


	5. Hammer To Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel experiences his Epiphany.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes Crowley's PTSD. I tried not to make it too bad, but it still might be upsetting. This is not a happy chapter.

There was a sudden blinding flash of light. The three of them were on a wooden raft under a dark, starless sky in the middle of a violently rolling sea.

“What’s happening?” Gabriel asked.

“Not sure,” Aziraphale looked around.

“Aren’t you traitors supposed to know what you’re doing?” Gabriel asked sarcastically.

“Eh, I… I’m generally a big fan of coming up with things as I go. It just takes me a moment to figure it out sometimes.” Crowley answered

“He’ll get there,” Aziraphale assured.

This did little to soothe Gabriel. The raft bucked along the waves. “Some plan this all turned out to be,” he grumbled as the waves crashed harder around them.

“You don’t mean that,” Crowley said, a grim realization dawning on him.

“Why not? Everything I thought I knew was a lie.”

“A lack of understanding is not always a lack of truth.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from _you_, demon. You’re Fallen. I’m the Archangel fucking Gabriel. How _dare_ you insinuate that I don’t understand what the truth is!”

Crowley looked at him, sadly. “Gabriel… Be still.”

Gabriel merely glared at him.

“I know what you’re feeling right now, Gabriel, and I underst—”

The Archangel quickly cut him off. “You know nothing about what I’m feeling, demon.”

“I _am_ a demon, yes. And that makes me uniquely qualified to understand.” He looked sorrowfully at Gabriel. “You have some decisions to make, and it’s important that you don’t take them lightly. There’s still time. It’s not over yet, but what happens next is up to you.”

“Fuck you.” The sky somehow grew even darker in spite of the beginnings of lightning flickering through the thick, stygian clouds. A low rumble grew slowly louder in the sky. “Why is it that I’ve worked so hard for thousands of years, only to have everything ruined by the two of you? I did everything right. Everything! But then you two had to go and screw things up. I expect it from a demon, but you,” He looked at Aziraphale with palpable hatred, “I couldn’t even make an example of you when you wouldn’t just die.” He grimaced in disgust. “And now She is not only talking to _you_,” he looked at Crowley, “but now I’m supposed to submit to… whatever _this_ is? Why should I give a damn about what you two think? And for that matter—"

“If I might interject,” Aziraphale began, “have you considered—”

“You can just shut your stupid fucking mouth, Aziraphale. I have nothing more to say to you,” Gabriel snarled as a clap of thunder boomed overhead. “And if God had any sense, She wouldn’t, either.”

Crowley looked nervous and sad. “Gabriel, be still, please,” the demon whispered.

Aziraphale tried again. “It’s extremely important that you let me speak, Gabriel. I don’t think you underst—”

“Shut _up_, Aziraphale,” he gritted his teeth as he spoke.

Crowley covered his face with his hands, his elbows on his knees, shoulders slumping slightly as the waves chopped harder against the raft.

Aziraphale, not being one to give up easily, tried yet again. “But if you’d just listen for a moment to consider—”

**_“I SAID NO!!!!!!”_** Gabriel bellowed, swinging his fist out at Aziraphale as a bolt of lightning struck the raft, splitting it apart. A violent wave crashed down over what was left, forcing them all underwater.

Moments later, the sky cleared and the water calmed. Aziraphale and Crowley breached the surface, gasping for breath and clinging to one another.

Gabriel was gone.

The two of them were suddenly back in the bookshop, perfectly dry and _physically_ unharmed. Crowley was in a panic, his eyes, fully golden yellow, darting everywhere. “We have to go to Hell right now.”

“What? No!” Aziraphale practically shouted.

“Don’t you get it? He’s… He’s all alone, Aziraphale!” His voice rose in pitch as he forced out his words.

“What does going to Hell have to do with that?” Aziraphale asked, the words coming out before his brain could make the connections between what they had just experienced and what Crowley was saying.

“Don’t you understand? He has _Fallen_, Aziraphale! No one has Fallen in thousands of years. We have to go _right now!_” The demon was frantic.

“Crowley, we can’t just go waltzing into Hell!”

“Yes we can! It’s part of the job description. It’s what we do.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Crowley was pacing around with his hand over his mouth.

“Just earlier, you were ready to come to blows, and now this? You can’t stand one another.” Aziraphale was confused.

“Aziraphale, this-, ngk… This wasn’t _supposed_ to happen! I didn’t.. I can’t… This _shouldn’t_ have happened! I never thought I’d…”

Aziraphale couldn’t stand to see Crowley like this. He had to get him to calm down. “But—"

“I’m going, Aziraphale,” Crowley interrupted sharply. His face became eerily calm as he picked his sunglasses up off of the counter and put them on. “I’m going with or without you.”

“I can’t let you do this alone.”

“Then you had better start walking, because I’m leaving now, and I’m not stopping until I get there.”

They walked through the entrance to Hell with surprisingly little resistance. Apparently, in addition to their new clearance levels between the two offices, the reputations they had acquired after their botched executions were just as strong as ever. Unfortunately, that did precious little to assuage the piling feelings of dread and discomfort buzzing in Aziraphale’s angelic ears. It pressed down on him, stronger than it had the last time he was here. Perhaps wearing Crowley’s body had filtered some of the static out. Or maybe it wasn’t Hell that he was feeling this time, but something else? He couldn’t really be sure. He couldn’t really be sure of anything at the moment. All he knew was that he wanted, _needed_, to leave as soon as possible.

“How will we find him?” Aziraphale asked, trying to will the dull pain out from behind his eyes.

“I know where he’ll be.” The demon spoke quietly.

“How can you be certain?”

“It’s not the sort of thing you forget.” Crowley replied, his jaw tight.

They came upon a vast lake of boiling Sulphur. Crowley scanned along the edges, only stopping when he noticed movement in the distance. They walked towards it as a figure dragged itself, gagging on burning liquid, engulfed in flames, out onto solid ground.

“Well, I’m sure you’re both just giddy seeing me like this, aren’t you?” The former Archangel growled, propping himself up painfully on an elbow.

“Crowley, we can’t stay here. We have to go.” Aziraphale tugged at Crowley’s arm. He didn’t want to see this, and the pain behind his eye was growing every minute they were there.

“You should listen to him, Crowley,” the freshly-minted demon choked as he spit out more Sulphur. “Or is part of my punishment giving you the satisfaction of watching me Fall?”

“I never… I never wanted this for you. I’m so sorry.” Crowley looked distraught.

Gabriel glared back at Crowley as he coughed up more ash.

“Crowley! We have to leave! Now!” Aziraphale pleaded.

Crowley held a hand up to Aziraphale, never taking his eyes off of Gabriel, as he slowly stepped toward the Fallen Archangel. He pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head and dropped to his knees, gently helping Gabriel up off of the ground onto his own. The minutes-old demon sat across from the millennia-old demon on his hands and knees, palms down on the ground to hold himself up on his trembling arms. His head hung low, chest heaving, as he was consumed in flames.

“It’s done! You can’t do anything more! This wasn’t your decision,” Aziraphale was pleading with him. “We can’t stay here! We can’t interfere!” The buzzing in the angel’s head was at a fever-pitch. He needed it to _stop_. He was ready to _go_.

“She knows what I am! This is what I’m meant to do. Everything we do is affected by Her Will! Maybe this is, too!” The demon sounded so desperate.

“Crowley, you can’t know that.”

“And I can’t do anything less, Aziraphale.” His voice was full of painful memories that the angel had no way to truly understand. How could he? He had never Fallen. He didn’t know.

“This isn’t your fault. There was nothing you could _do_.”

“But I can at least do _this_,” Crowley whispered, pulling the newly-Fallen up towards himself.

Crowley closed his eyes, holding Gabriel tighter in his arms, tears flowing freely down both of their faces. He could feel as Gabriel’s struggle to break free lessened.

“Get away from me,” Gabriel croaked with an obvious lack of conviction. “I know you hate me.”

Crowley clung tighter and whispered, “No one should have to go through this alone. Not even you.”

Aziraphale sighed and stepped forward, reaching out to place his hands on Crowley’s in an attempt to pull him off of the new demon and away from the fire.

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale, his eyes desperate.

“Please, Angel. Please…” Crowley grabbed his hand outstretched hand, squeezing tightly. _I need this as much as him_, he thought with all the force he could muster.

Aziraphale, to his credit, suddenly seemed to understand. His eyes were full of sorrow, concern, and in spite of trying to hide it, a bit of pity. The angel began to realize that this stubbornness, this obstinate need to comfort someone who had tried to kill them, even after all of the fighting, had a reason. Crowley never spoke of his own Fall, not really. He would just make some comment or joke and change the subject. Azriaphale got the impression that the physical pain he himself was feeling paled in comparison to what Crowley was feeling right now. He needed to be there for him. He could do this. He _would_ do this. He sat down, cross-legged next to them, rubbing slow, gentle circles on both of their backs with as much kindness as he could.

The three sat there together in the fire. Crowley and Aziraphale remained untouched while the last remnants of an Archangel burned away. Crowley held him tightly until the flames had died down. Once the first to Fall in thousands of years had stopped shaking, Crowley released him from their embrace and they all stood up.

Without a word, the two demons nodded to one another. Gabriel, as he would never again be known, turned around and walked away, disappearing further into Hell.

Aziraphale felt the buzzing static slowly ebbing away as he pulled Crowley’s sunglasses back down over his eyes, wrapped an arm around the demon’s shoulder, and led him back home.


	6. The Show Must Go On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel's Epiphany affected Crowley
> 
> Michael comes for a visit.

They made it back to the bookshop. Crowley hadn’t spoken a word since. He just moved in whatever direction Aziraphale guided him.

He took him upstairs. The angel took a bowl of warm water and a damp cloth to wipe the demon’s face clean. He was being careful not to dislodge his sunglasses, but Crowley reached up and took them off. Aziraphale barely suppressed a soft cry of despair when their eyes met. He had never seen such sadness there before. He continued to wipe the scorch and soot off of the demon’s skin. He could have miracled it away, but there was something therapeutic and healing in touch that he knew Crowley needed.

Crowley remained silent, staring into nothing.

Aziraphale undressed him, continuing to wash the Hellgrit off of his skin before dressing him in clean pajamas and putting him to bed. With a snap of his fingers, he, too, was clean and changed. He crawled next to Crowley and wrapped his arms around him protectively, holding him as they both drifted off to sleep.

Crowley _slept_ for many days.

On the eighth day, Aziraphale was downstairs puttering around the shop when Crowley slowly came staggering down the stairs rubbing his eyes, his hair a mess.

“How long have I been out?”

“Long enough.”

“Angel…” He cocked his head to the side.

“Just over a week. But you needed it.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He sauntered around behind Aziraphale and wrapped his arms around his other half’s waist, pressing his head against the angel’s shoulder. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

Aziraphale just smiled, leaning his head back to touch temples together, clasping Crowley’s hands underneath his own.

“When was the last time you had a proper meal, Angel?”

“Can’t recall.”

“That’s far too long. Let’s have lunch. My treat.” The demon pressed a chaste kiss into the angel’s shoulder.

“That sounds delightful. Let me finish up a few things while you get dressed,” he beamed. Even though he had been upstairs the whole time, Aziraphale had missed Crowley’s random daily presence terribly. Their first official assignment in their new duties had been so incredibly hard on Crowley. If he was being honest with himself, it had been hard on him, too. He wasn’t looking forward to the next one if it were going to be anything like that had been. He especially didn’t think Crowley was ready. Instead, he was eager to get back into some semblance of familiarity between them.

Under normal circumstances, lunch would have been the perfect answer.

Lunch finished and appetites sated, they pulled up to the side of the bookshop where Crowley had been parking since more or less moving in. They were bickering about nonsense on the drive back, and hadn’t let getting out to walk arm-in-arm up to the shop stop them. It all felt so wonderfully normal again. As they walked around the corner, they saw a figure sitting in front of the door to the bookshop. Her knees were raised to her chest, her arms folded on top of them, forehead pressed against her arms.

“Michael!” Aziraphale exclaimed, looking around as if expecting the others to turn up.

She looked up at the mention of her name.

“What are you doing here?” Crowley asked, maintaining a neutral tone until he could figure out her intent.

“I don’t owe you two any answers,” Michael huffed.

“You don’t.” The pair agreed simultaneously by coincidence.

The two exchanged a look. Aziraphale unlocked the door. “Will you be coming in?”

She looked up with a mixture of fear and dread, but stood up and followed them in.

Aziraphale locked the door behind them. She visibly stiffened.

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable while I go make us some tea, hmm? Do you take tea?” He asked politely.

She just looked at him, blinking once. This was not the Michael he remembered from Heaven. This was barely even the Michael he remembered from Hell as she handed him a towel.

“Well, _I_ take tea. It won’t take long at all.”

As Aziraphale busied himself in the back room, Crowley silently watched Michael as she roamed around the shop. She had never actually been inside of it before. She found herself walking through the shelves, dragging her finger along the spines of a few of the books. _What is it about all of this_, she wondered, _that was so important that they managed to stop Armageddon?_

Her eyes met Crowley’s, though she couldn’t see them for his dark glasses. She knew, however, that it was unlikely he would be doing anything _but_ watching her. He remained silent the entire time.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit? Aziraphale asked, coming out of the back with a tea tray and placing it on a table.

“You can’t question my motives! I’m an angel!” She replied, tersely.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. That was not a response he was expecting.

Crowley, however, was prepared for that. “We aren’t actually questioning anything, really.” He said, sitting down at the table. “But I think you might be.” He continued to watch her as Aziraphale stole a suddenly knowing glance.

“Do sit down, dear,” Aziraphale beckoned to her.

She sat down at the table with them, eyes darting back and forth between the two of them and the tea as Aziraphale served.

“Now,” Aziraphale paused to take a sip from his cup. “What appears to be the problem?”

That sounded oddly familiar to her somehow. She brushed it aside, taking a deep breath before she spoke.

“You… How? How do _you_ have the ability to cause an angel, an Archangel, at that, to Fall?”

“No. No, no no. That’s, no.” Crowley raised his hands up, palms out, as he spoke. He closed his eyes momentarily as he pushed back the feeling of panic that tried to climb up his throat again. Aziraphale noticed and placed his hand on Crowley’s arm to steady him. Taking a deep breath, he continued. “That’s not what this is. That wasn’t our decision. That was his choice.”

Michael looked horrified. “He never would have chosen to Fall!”

“He chose to continue as he had been. He was given the opportunity for knowledge and choice, an opportunity to recognize where his path was leading, and that he could change it. He chose not to. He chose to question while closing himself off to any answer.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Fortunately, believing us doesn’t matter as much as understanding yourself does.” Crowley replied softly.

Aziraphale continued. “Believing us might help how you cope with it, but the decisions are yours and yours alone to make—”

Crowley finished the sentence. “Regardless of what _we_ say or do.”

She looked back and forth between them.

Aziraphale spoke with as gentle of a voice as he could. “I suppose you’re here for… A meeting?” The pair stood, walking towards the open center of the bookshop.

Brows furrowed, lips pursed, she looked up at him and then back down to the floor, nodding an affirmation.

Crowley extended his hand to her, tilting his head to encourage her to come to them.

“Will I Fall?” Her voice sounded so small.

“Your heart is hurting, Michael…” Crowley soothed.

“…but your mind is still open,” Aziraphale explained.

“I don’t understand.” Michael looked between them with broken, pleading eyes.

The pair linked hands. Speaking in unison, they whispered, “You will.”

Gleaming white and glossy black wings extended around her, cocooning the three of them together, surrounding her in seemingly endless points of shining gold and silver light, like a starry sky as daylight faded into twilight. Suddenly, the lights began to swirl around her, faster and faster, shimmering silver running widdershins and gleaming gold running deosil. She fell to her knees, yet somehow felt safe. The lights began to fill her, the gold entering through her forehead and the silver absorbed by her heart. “It’s time to rest, Michael,” the voices said softly. “Sleep.”

She curled up on the ground and began to dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I needed to split chapters.
> 
> Look for Michael's Epiphany tomorrow.


	7. Spread Your Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael's Epiphany

She was standing in what appeared to be the center of a vividly blazing star. It was too bright to see at first. She shielded her eyes with her hands, though she wouldn’t allow them to touch her face. Slowly brought them back down as the light grew dimmer between her fingers. When she opened her eyes again, she realized that she was in the center of a pair of stars that were revolving around one another, one fiery orange and one gleaming yellow. They slowed down in their rotations until they began to take human shapes on either side of her. Well, an approximation of human, anyway. The yellow star became long and loose while the orange star became staunch and secure.

Or was it the other way around?

The beings shifted back and forth in appearance before releasing hands and shifting appearance directly in front of her one last time.

“So it was a trick, then.” Michael gasped, wide-eyed.

“Eh, well, possibly.” Crowley replied.

“As it turned out, we hadn’t actually needed to.” Aziraphale continued, “But we didn’t know that at the time.”

“Well, the end result was the same, anyway.” Crowley shrugged. “Cancelled each other out.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

The two grinned at each other sentimentally while Michael tried to make sense of everything. She began to notice something different about them that she hadn’t truly allowed herself to see before.

Love.

There was genuine, pure, beautiful love between the two of them.

_How is that even possible?_ She thought. _He’s a demon_.

She reached her hand out towards Crowley’s chest, placing it over his heart. She looked back and forth from her hands to his eyes, no longer hidden behind dark glasses. He tilted his head to the side slightly, watching her. “You love him.”

The demon smiled warmly. “Yes.”

“You really, truly love him. This isn’t mischief or lust,” she said, awestruck.

“Weeellll…” He squeaked out a weird noise that was probably meant to be a drawn out word as he ran his hand through his hair, looking off to the side slightly.

“No,” she said, looking down at her hand on his chest. “No, there is a lot there, but the base, the core of it, is pure and untainted. I can tell.” She looked back up into his eyes. “But how?”

“I’m afraid I can’t give you an answer for that question, but it isn’t that I don’t want to,” he looked at her wistfully. “It’s that I don’t know it. I don’t know how it happened, but it did.”

“For how long?” She sat down on her knees, pulling her hands into her lap.

“Truthfully? It started in Eden, I think. But it wasn’t the same back then,” he sat down across from her in the nothingness, one knee up to rest his elbow on while his other leg just existed wherever it felt like. “I knew I was drawn to him, and he had been kind to me, in spite of what I was.”

“And you to me,” Aziraphale interrupted with a smile.

“Yes, and I to you,” Crowley echoed, his head tilted around to look fondly at Aziraphale as the angel sat down with them. “But it took time for it to grow and develop into more. I’ve loved him, truly loved him, for a very long time now. But I fall more in love each day.”

“That doesn’t sound very demonic.”

“I never was a particularly good demon. Well, bad demon. Eh, never good at… um, at demoning?”

Aziraphale had the most literal definition of a beatific smile she had ever seen as he pressed a finger to Crowley’s lips to stop his rambling. 

_It’s beautiful_, she thought, _the way they felt, the way they _feel_, for one another_.

Her thoughts turned towards the information in the observational files she had dragged out about the two of them. She had been so sure it was something nefarious and sinful at the time.

At least, until she saw the look on Aziraphale’s face during their confrontation just before the battle was to begin, when Uriel had mentioned that Crowley was in trouble with Hell. It was only a fraction of a second, but she saw him shift from pleased at his mention to terrified, and then back to neutral.

She hadn’t been able to shake the feeling it gave her. Had it been confusion? Concern? Doubt? She hadn’t been sure until now.

Guilt.

She felt _guilty_.

She felt guilty for stirring up such a fuss without even being asked. Though she would have denied it at the time, she had felt too guilty to witness Aziraphale’s execution. She managed to avoid it by volunteering to bring Holy water downstairs for Crowley’s trial.

Crowley, who had been on trial for killing Ligur, in self-defense, because Ligur had gone after him based on the information she had dug up and spread around Heaven and Hell.

She had been so sure they were sinful, traitorous abominations.

But they loved one another.

They loved one another. Their actions were motivated by the need to protect and cherish what they loved.

And now her own wicked actions had played a part in the Fall of an Archangel.

She looked down at her hands and felt terribly unclean.

“It was my fault,” she spoke softly.

“What was your fault, my dear?” Aziraphale smiled kindly at her.

“I went through the Earth observation files. No one asked me to, I just, I thought I should, after… “ Her voice trailed off.

“After I tried to convince everyone not to go to war,” he finished for her.

She nodded.

“And what did you find?”

“Activity reports detailing the two of you sharing in each other’s company. Photos of the two of you together.”

Crowley and Aziraphale glanced at each other briefly.

“Was it your fault that we were in the photographs together?” Aziraphale smiled warmly at her.

She looked surprised.

“You did what you thought was right,” Crowley said.

“That’s right,” Aziraphale agreed. “And if we hadn’t been together in the reports and photographs to begin with, you’d have had nothing to find at all.”

“But I called you a Fallen angel.”

“I remember,” he replied softly.

She looked at Crowley. “I told Ligur about the two of you.”

He took one of her hands and clasped it between his, but said nothing.

“I said and did so many horrible things. I was so sure I was right to do so.”

“You’re an angel, my dear,” Aziraphale began.

“Being smug tends to come with the halo,” Crowley finished, grinning playfully.

Aziraphale winked at her.

“I’m sorry.”

They both smiled at each other and then back at Michael.

“I forgive you,” they said together.

“Am I supposed to feel different now?” She asked.

“Do you?” Aziraphale asked her.

“Some.” She looked down.

“We aren’t able to interfere,” Crowley began to explain. “This isn’t about what we think or do.”

“But you forgave me,” she said plaintively.

“We did,” Aziraphale replied.

“And we do,” Crowley said. “But this isn’t about us. You’re going to have to figure out how to forgive yourself.”

“But how can I? I have so much blood on my hands. Ligur—”

“I killed Ligur, not you.” Crowley stated.

“And if you hadn’t had a way around it, I would have been responsible for both of your deaths as well.”

“Even if you hadn’t gone through the files, we still would have been marked as traitors,” Aziraphale reminded her.

She could feel the tears in her eyes as she tried to speak the name that wouldn’t form. “It’s my fault he Fell.”

Crowley took her face in his hands, wiping her tears with his thumbs. “No, Michael. No, it isn’t. He made a choice, but it wasn’t your fault.” Crowley looked into her eyes. It was strange, she thought, that eyes she once assumed were foul and evil would be so kind. “He was angry, and he let it consume him. But you were never responsible for his anger, not at all. He was angry at things he didn’t understand, and refused to make any attempt to do so. He believed he was right and refused to entertain any other possibility.”

“Do you believe you were right, Michael?” Aziraphale asked her.

“I… I thought so at the time.”

“And do you still?” The angel reached his hand out to wipe a freshly-fallen tear from her cheek.

She took a breath. “No.”

“This is the difference, my dear. You’re able to see things in a new way now. You can learn from this and become better. But only if you allow yourself to do so.” He placed a single golden spark in her right hand.

“You know that you feel differently now than you did then,” Crowley said, placing a silver spark in her left hand. “You’ve experienced much suffering, but it doesn’t have to be a burden.”

She held her hands out in front of her, looking down at the lights.

“I don’t know what to do with this.” She whispered

“Have you tried?” They whispered back.

She closed her eyes, clasping her hands together, and began to pray.

_Lord, please help me. I know I can’t understand everything in your plan. I have done such terrible things, and I am sorry. I thought I was infallible, but I know now that I was wrong. I want to be better. I want to be worthy of the love you’ve sent to guide me back on my path. _

She looked down, opening her hands. The two lights began to rise, spinning around one another. As they increased in speed they became brighter. She smiled and lifted up her hands, releasing the lights, laughing as they danced higher and higher above her.

The three of them stood in the center of the bookshop. Crowley and Aziraphale were smiling at her, hands still joined, carefully pulling back their wings.

“How do you feel?” They asked in unison.

Closing her eyes, she smiled and took a deep, cleansing breath.

“Joyful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on waiting until later in the day to get this out, but it's storming here. I decided I'd rather post it than risk not due to possible power or internet outage.
> 
> I hope this chapter helped your hearts as well after the last few.


	8. I Was Born To Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finds out what really happened the week he was _out._
> 
> The bookshop has its next visitor.

Once Michael left for Heaven, Crowley slumped down on the couch next to Aziraphale. “I don’t know about you, Angel, but I’m exhausted.” The demon yawned, snuggling up against the angel. “I think I just might have to call it a night.”

“Well, my dear, you’ve been through quite a lot. It stands to reason. Would you like me to sit with you until you fall asleep? If you’ll let me grab a book—"

“Aren’t you tired?”

“A bit, but not terribly so.”

“How is that possible? I just slept for a solid week, but that last job has me completely knackered.” He rubbed his eyes, the dark circles underneath prominent.

Aziraphale wavered slightly**. **

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

Aziraphale looked away, but remained silent.

“What’s going on, Aziraphale?”

He looked at Crowley and took a deep breath. “You didn’t actually sleep as long as you think.”

“You said I slept for just over a week.”

“No. You asked how long you were _out_.”

“Angel?”

Aziraphale went silent, looking away again.

“What’s wrong?” Crowley questioned softly. “What happened?”

“Well, I…” His brows furrowed as he searched for words. “I don’t really think I know, to be perfectly honest.”

Crowley tilted his head slightly as he listened.

“You did sleep, some, yes. But not the entire time.”

“I don’t remember being awake.” His face darkened.

“I don’t think you were, strictly speaking. Your eyes were open, but you weren’t _there_.”

Crowley shifted uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”

Aziraphale sighed sadly, looking off into the distance before he spoke. “Right after… _he_ left, it was as if you were gone. I am ashamed to admit that I didn’t really cotton on to what was happening until the next morning, even though I should have noticed it right away.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath before continuing. “When we got home, you just sat there while I moved you around like a doll. I cleaned you up and changed your clothes, but you pulled your sunglasses off when I was cleaning your face. I thought maybe you were just exhausted. But the next morning, you were still…” He swallowed hard, closing his eyes.

Crowley scooted closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “What happened the next morning, Angel?”

He buried his head in the crook of the demon’s neck. “Your body would move if I moved you. Your eyes would sometimes almost follow me when I came near, but you seemed to look right through me. If you could hear me, or even recognized I was there, I had no way to know it.”

“Oh, Angel, I’m so sorry.” He held him tighter.

“It’s not your fault.” The angel sniffed, straightening up and wiping his eyes. “I’m just glad you’ve come back to me,” he said, patting Crowley’s knee. “But I do believe you could use some actual rest now. Why don’t you go on upstairs and get ready for bed. I’ll lock up and tidy up a bit and join you shortly. Is there anything you’d like me to bring when I come up?”

“Maybe a couple of those biscuits you’re so fond of.”

“Of course, my dear.”

Aziraphale listened to make sure he heard Crowley settling upstairs. When he was satisfied, he got down on his knees and clasped his hands together.

_Lord_, he prayed_, I am in no way questioning what you expect of us, and of course I’m happy to be of service, but it would be remiss of me not to…_

“Oh, bugger,” he said out loud. Realizing he had just cussed in the middle of a prayer, he immediately slapped his hands over his mouth, widening his eyes. “Oh, that was absolutely _dreadful_. Look,” he continued speaking aloud. “I don’t know if… if, well, we both know what happened, of course.” He was getting flustered. “I don’t know if that was a punishment for staying through the Fall. I couldn’t imagine that it would be, except that I obviously did or I wouldn’t have mentioned it… Oh, this is getting ridiculous.” He sighed, rolling his eyes at himself. “I love him so much. I don’t think I could handle seeing him like that again, and if it does happen, he’ll need someone to take care of him. I suppose what I’m trying to say, to, to ask, is this. I ask for strength. I need to be stronger, to help him. He takes on so much, and I need to be able to do my part. I can’t do this, _any of this_, without him.”

Aziraphale opened his eyes and stood up, grabbing the tea tray. He turned around to head upstairs and saw Crowley leaning in the doorway, watching him.

“How, how much of that did you hear?” Aziraphale asked as he attempted to walk around him through the doorway.

“Not a word, love.” He smiled softly at the angel. “Not a single word.” He took a biscuit off of the tray, popped it in his mouth, and followed the angel upstairs.

Crowley awoke to find himself alone in their bed. Hearing voices down in the bookshop, he made himself presentable and grabbed his sunglasses. He could hear Aziraphale arguing with someone as soon as he reached the doorway to go downstairs. He recognized the other voice midway down.

“Do you expect me to apologize to you?” Uriel asked, incredulously.

“This isn’t about me. I do not have the authority to offer you any form of absolution.”

“Does that mean you’re here to punish me?”

“No, not at all.” Aziraphale remained calm and steadfast.

“But what of the others?”

“They made decisions, and those decisions brought them to where they are now,” he explained.

She narrowed her eyes. “Then why am I here?”

“One would assume, if you were summoned, that you are here to make your choice. I am to give you options, and information.” Aziraphale tugged slightly at his waistcoat. “The same as I always have.”

“But it isn’t the same,” she said coolly.

“No, I suppose it’s not. But that’s my part in it, anyway.”

“And you?” She turned to Crowley as he approached the two angels.

“Moral support.”

She looked him up and down, scoffing. “What sort of morals could a demon support?”

“You’d be quite surprised, if you took the time to get to know him,” Aziraphale smiled sweetly at Crowley.

“I doubt that.” She cut her eyes at him.

“Look,” Crowley began, quietly. “You and I could argue until the end of time, but ultimately, this is all on you. You are the one who has to make your own decisions, not me. I’ll do as much as you’ll allow me to do for you, but in the end, it’s up to you. I can’t force you to listen, no matter how much it hurts either of us.” He looked pleadingly at her. “But I really hope you do.”

“You’re genuinely scared I’m going to Fall,” Uriel gasped.

“I am.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want that for _anybody_.” The muscles in his jaw twitched.

“Why would _you_ care?” Why did _she_ care, she wondered.

“Because it _hurts_, Uriel,” he growled. “It will hurt you and everyone you ever knew.”

“And you? How does this affect you?”

The life seemed to drain out of his face. “This isn’t about me, Uriel.”

“And if I Fell, what would you do?”

“I would be there, with you. I would stay with you for as long as it took. You wouldn’t go through it alone. I wouldn’t let you.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said.

“It’s what he did for… for _him_,” Aziraphale spoke up.

Uriel turned towards Aziraphale. “What?”

“Yes. I… I didn’t want to be there, I’m ashamed to say,” the angel spoke quietly, his eyes downcast. Crowley looked at him with sadness, reaching out to squeeze his hand briefly before pulling it back. “I begged to go. I even tried to drag him away, but he refused to leave.”

She looked over to see Crowley huddling in on himself.

“It wounded Crowley very badly, Uriel. Please believe me when I say this. I… wasn’t certain he would recover from it.”

“Maybe I haven’t,” Crowley muttered almost inaudibly as he wrapped his arms around himself more tightly.

“Why would you do that?” She asked, breathlessly.

“Because I know what it’s like. And I know that, even if I don’t agree with it, even if I couldn’t change the actual outcome, I could do _that_. I didn’t have to stand by idly and let things happen around me. So I did something.”

“But it didn’t change anything.”

“It did for… _him_.” Aziraphale said.

“And it did for me, too,” Crowley whispered.

“Did it? You’re both still demons. None of this matters.”

“It matters, Uriel,” Crowley said as he released his wings and reached for Aziraphale’s hand. The two of them joined hands, wrapping their wings around their charge, and let their light flow.

“It doesn’t,” she said flatly as their light circled around her, “but let’s just get this over with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, they won't all be like this.
> 
> This one is, but not all of them. There will be some fun coming soon, but not just yet.
> 
> Meanwhile, if you want some fun now, check out [Princes of the Universe ](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1426648), an incredible series by Lyowyn. It is an exciting romp through Heaven, Hell, Earth, as well as a few life-lessons from the Antichrist.


	9. One Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uriel's Epiphany

When she opened her eyes, she was surrounded in bright, white light. _Am I back in Heaven?_ _No, it can’t be, _she thought._ It’s too… Cold? Why am I so cold?_

She tried to focus her eyes, but all around her was white nothingness and deafening silence.

“Where am I?”

“You’re inside of your Epiphany, Uriel.”

She spun around, seeking out the voice. As she did, she heard a crack below her feet. She looked down to see she was standing on a sheet of ice.

“Be still, Uriel,” the second voice spoke over the silence. “Don’t make any sudden moves. We’ll come to you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said as a tiny hairline fracture appeared at her toe.

“What doesn’t matter, my dear?” She could hear him, but she couldn’t see anything but white swirling around her.

“Everything. Nothing.”

“Everything has a purpose. That purpose may change from time to time, but it is always there.” Aziraphale spoke.

“Even if we can’t know it then.” Crowley continued Aziraphale’s thought.

She could hear them very clearly, but had yet to be able to see them in the stark white frozen brightness that surrounded her. She stepped forward, ice creaking and fracturing beneath her feet.

Aziraphale gasped.

“Don’t move, Uriel. I said we’ll come to you. Just stay where you are.” Crowley’s voice was calm.

“Yes, let’s… Let’s not be hasty, Uriel. We can talk about this.”

“It wouldn’t change anything, Aziraphale.”

“You’ve said those exact words to me before, Uriel. And look at everything that _did_ change.”

“That was the moment we had prepared for since the Great War, and it didn’t happen. Everything is different because _nothing_ changed.”

“Everything changed, Uriel.” Aziraphale stated.

“Maybe for _you_. But for Heaven, for me, everything is as it was. We were powerless to stop it. Or start it. There isn’t even a proper description of it.”

Her eyes sought out the voice she recognized as Aziraphale, but she still couldn’t see him. _Why can’t I see them?_

She sighed heavily. “None of this matters.”

“Oh, but it does.” Crowley implored. “It matters more now than it ever did before. There’s a whole new world, a new chapter to begin, and it’s full of possibilities.”

“You’re only saying that because it’s your job now, demon. And you, Aziraphale, out of some ridiculous misguided sense of duty to the Great Nothing That Never Was.”

_Crack_.

“Oh, I think it’s been well-established that neither of us is particularly fond of following the rules.” Crowley tried to hide the nerves in his voice.

Aziraphale was trying to do the same. “Yes, I think I rather agree, my dear.”

“All of this means nothing.” She was desperately looking around, seeing only but stark white as her eyes completely froze over.

“You keep saying that, but I’m afraid I don’t understand, my dear.”

“Neither do I!” She barked, her voice echoing in the stillness as spiderwebs etched into the ice, radiating out, crackling beneath her.

“Uriel,” Crowley pleaded, “You _must_ be still.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she said, trying to mask her fear with false bravado. 

“Believe what you like, then, but please, do be careful of what you wish for.” She couldn’t see it, but Aziraphale had his hands out, silently willing her to stop as he carefully tried to move towards her.

She jumped at his voice, turning her head to track the sound. The spiderweb fractures opened up a small gash in the ice that slowly crept towards her. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked.

She blindly turned her head as the other voice spoke. “It means that there’s only so much I can actually _do_ if you keep fighting me,” Crowley said, beseechingly as he attempted to will her still until he could get to her.

“Don’t you get it? _Everything we do is pointless_!” She shouted.

A deafening cracking sound ripped through the air, shattering the suffocating silence before being swallowed back up inside of it.

Uriel fell through the ice.

“No! _No, no no no no no!!!_” Crowley’s eyes went wide and yellow as he ran, stumbling and skidding across the ice trying to get to Uriel before it was too late. He let out a terrified cry as he scrambled along the edge, reaching into the icy water. He grabbed her by the collar, just before her head could go under, pulling up as hard as he could. “Listen to me! It matters! It matters so much! If what you’re doing gets cancelled out by what someone else is doing, it still matters that you’ve done it! Even if you’re only breaking even, you’re still doing _something_! The goal is to stay above the water. As long as you’re trying to do that, it _matters_! You can’t give up, you just _can’t_. We can’t understand everything we’re meant to do, or how we’re meant to do it, but it all matters.” He was practically hysterical.” You _matter_, Uriel!”

“How do you know?” Her eyes were closed as she spoke, allowing herself to sink below the freezing water. The only thing slowing her descent was Crowley’s frantic grip on her clothing as he struggled in vain to pull her up, losing the battle as she dragged him down into the icy deep.

A glint of gold flashed by Crowley’s face as a second set of strong hands reached out, one grasping to help stop Uriel from going completely under, and the other wrapping around Crowley to stop the demon from sinking further into the water alongside her. Aziraphale, his wings beating with more strength than he ever remembered possessing, spoke with gentle force. “Because She sent you here so we could show you how much you mean to Her.”

Uriel gasped, opening her crystal-clouded eyes wide. She reached up out of the frozen water to grab their hands. Aziraphale hauled both Crowley and Uriel up out of the slush and onto solid ground. Crowley pulled Uriel to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her as she shivered, and Aziraphale wrapped himself, wings and all, around them both. “You’re safe now, Uriel, we’ve got you,” Crowley murmured, rocking her soothingly as their light increased around her to make her warm.

Aziraphale looked around as the scene cleared. What was once stark white nothingness became a landscape covered in snow and ice. “Shouldn’t we be back in the bookshop by now?”

“Oh, it isn’t over.” Crowley looked down at Uriel as she slept. He continued to rock her in his arms. “She hasn’t Fallen,” he murmured, “But she hasn’t found her way out yet.”

“Why was it different this time, do you think?” Aziraphale asked quietly. “Why were you able to grab her?”

“…” Crowley swallowed harshly as he tried to speak the name that would never come. They shared a look between them of sorrow. “…_He_ wasn’t looking for answers anymore, Aziraphale. It was all so chaotic. He was beyond reason by the time he went under. He got ripped away too quickly for us to reach him. Gone before he hit the water.” He looked back down at the angel on his chest. “But Uriel here, she’s been desperately searching for answers this entire time.” He stroked the sleeping angel’s cheek gently. “She just couldn’t see how to form the questions.”

Uriel’s eyes began to flutter open. Still frozen and clouded, they darted around, searching for something she couldn’t quite place. “You saved me,” she whispered.

“No, my dear, we didn’t,” Aziraphale began.

“You saved yourself,” Crowley finished.

“I don’t understand.” Her voice trembled with a blend of awe and confusion.

“You stayed true to yourself,” Aziraphale explained. “You stopped letting yourself Fall once you remembered, deep down, what you truly are.”

“You saved yourself when you _believed_ that you mattered,” Crowley smiled down at her. “You made a difference, Uriel.”

She pulled away from him to sit up. She still couldn’t focus her eyes on either of them. “But that only affects me. I’m just one angel. That’s not a real difference.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Aziraphale countered. “I was just one angel at Armageddon, and look at the mess I made there.” He chuckled gently.

“But you had your demon to help you.” She cast her sightless eyes downward.

“And now _you_ have _us both_,” Crowley said, warmly.

She shuddered as snow and rain fell from her eyes into her hands.

There was a faint glow in her chest and head as she was finally able to focus her eyes and really see the two of them in the fading evening light of the bookshop. She looked down at her own warm, dry hands before looking back up at them both, smiling peacefully with purpose.

“I have work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing what you think! Comments give me life.
> 
> There are a few more things on the way, though it might take a little longer to push them out. Yesterday morning, I lost 3 chapters to a random act of ineffability and am having to rewrite them. But I expect I should be able to hopefully keep up with at least daily updates until we wrap up.


	10. I Want To Break Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _They had both been performing blessings here and temptations there on humans for thousands of years. The Arrangement had occasionally doubled their workload in some ways, but it had also given them both more time for rest in between. But he also knew that nothing they had ever been assigned to do in the past could compare to what they were doing now. _

Crowley sat at the table, staring sleepily down into his coffee cup. Whatever secrets were hidden within, they were trapped at the bottom. The way he was feeling this morning, he knew he definitely needed to finish drinking it for any mysteries to be revealed.

Aziraphale leaned over to top his demon’s cup off before sitting down with the morning paper and his own cup of tea.

“Excuse me, but I was headed towards an existential breakthrough when you moved my goalpost.” Crowley looked deeper into his cup.

“What are you on about?”

“Nothing,” the demon said, realizing he wasn’t _actually_ bound by the level of coffee in his cup. If anything, his angel had granted him further liquid brain fuel in a loving act of kindness. But there was no reason to mention that part.

The angel looked at him quizzically over his reading glasses before turning his attention to his paper.

The demon continued to stare pensively into the dark liquid in his cup.

He knew, realistically, that they hadn’t been doing this very long. He understood that. It was a fact. They had both been performing blessings here and temptations there on humans for thousands of years. The Arrangement had occasionally doubled their workload in some ways, but it had also given them both more time for rest in between. But he also knew that nothing they had ever been assigned to do in the past could compare to what they were doing now. The stakes were so much higher. The closest he could possibly compare it to was standing next to the Antichrist in Tadfield, encouraging him to make a choice.

He had been personally invested in the outcome in Tadfield. It was literally the end of the world, the end of everything he loved, and the end of time.

_That’s not entirely true and you know it_, he thought._ You just wanted more time to be with Aziraphale. It was _always_ about Aziraphale. _

He felt like his divinity had been restored when he discovered that his pangs of despised love, once the insolence of office had no longer been an issue, were mutual. He had always suspected, always hoped, but could never take the risk to either of them. Oh, he got close a few times, closer still in the years leading up to Armageddon, and all but blurted it out in the last few days when he was scared and couldn’t see any way out of it other than to run off and hide the angel from anything that could hurt him. After Armageddon didn’t happen, and after their respective offices had tried to eliminate them, he saw a tangible change in how Aziraphale existed around him. Oh, Crowley knew Aziraphale still fought with himself at first, but there were visible moments when his face would shift, his body would relax, and the angel smiled at him in a way that he had only seen a precious handful of times over 6000 years. But now it happened at least once a day. Crowley craved that smile. The light from Aziraphale’s smile pulled him in like gravity, and Crowley desired nothing more than to orbit him for eternity. Now he could feel and touch and taste and _be_ without fear of rebuke or loss. How wonderful it had been, finally, to know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he no longer had to hide himself in plain sight. To no longer pack himself away in a series of tiny boxes to protect himself, to protect Aziraphale, because it was inappropriate for a demon to feel any sort of selfless love, especially for an angel.

_Don’t lie to yourself. There was plenty of selfish love in there, too. Selfish, lusty, desire. He was a distraction, is what he was. Still is. A laugh more musical than any Celestial Harmony. Gorgeous, soft, Holy-Bastard fluffy cloud-stuff with sweetly gentle lips and strong, firm hands… _

_Wait, what was I thinking about?_

_Oh, right. _That_._

And even _that_ wasn’t quite like all of _this_. This was new. _That_ hadn’t hollowed him out, stirred him up, and roughly scooped him back into himself the way their first assignment had. Before, the only feelings he had to pack away were for Aziraphale. But it was different back then, because he could still let them out over time with a favor here and a glance there. The time between assignments gave him a bit of a pressure valve to release just enough that he could still function. He didn’t have that anymore. He was forced to tamp down his own feelings towards the angels in front of him. Angels that had literally tried to destroy the love between Aziraphale and himself by erasing them from the cosmos. He had to perform whatever emotional gymnastic choreography he was required to in order to get those same angels who had hurt them from point A to point B as safely as possible. That was the job. There had been absolutely no time for Crowley to process and filter out any of it.

Crowley was _tired_.

“It’s been too long, Angel.”

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale glanced up briefly in acknowledgment as he took a sip of tea, then shifted his paper and continued to read.

“Where we aren’t dealing with any of this, no being interrupted, no surprises, not busy trying to recover. Just us. Me and you.”

“You and I.” He didn’t look up.

“Don’t start that. I know what I said and I said it just fine. You’re just trying to get me flustered and get a rise out of me.”

Aziraphale quickly glanced up over his paper at Crowley, slightly arching his eyebrow as a grin tiptoed threateningly across the corner of his mouth. He hummed a sound that might have been described as _‘ is that so’_ were one to translate it. He looked back down at his paper.

“I’m being serious here, Angel. Here we have Her Blessing to be together, but we haven’t even had a _single day_ to ourselves to truly appreciate it.”

Aziraphale put the paper down. “Well, my dear, we did have just over a week of—”

“I was _catatonic_, Aziraphale! That doesn’t count!”

“I’m sorry,” the angel regretted saying that. He hadn’t meant to suggest that it had been a time to appreciate, not at all. He remembered how lonely it had been to have Crowley there, but _not there_. “You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

_I was thinking that, on days you’ve been coherent and awake, someone always shows up. I was thinking that no one, _at all, _human or angel_, _had come to the shop that week you had been gone. I was thinking how terribly lonely and isolating it was. I was thinking that I might have lost you, and if that’s what counts as time off, I’d rather not, thank you_.

Crowley softened. “It’s all right, Angel. You don’t need to apologize. I would think that time was harder on you than it was on me, anyway.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

Crowley looked hurt.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. It was extremely difficult to see you like that. I missed you while you were… _gone_.” He took Crowley’s hands into his own. “You took the best part of me with you while you were away.” His eyes threatened a watery sheen as he smiled at the demon with tight lips. “But I can’t begin to understand what it was that took you away during that time.”

Crowley closed his eyes and sighed. “This is what I’m talking about. This is what I mean. It’s just like it was before. We’re here, right in front of one another, but the weight of the entire universe is between us.”

Aziraphale attempted to smile at least half of a smile, but the effort lifted his face into something much more fragile and forlorn.

Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes tightly out of frustration for a moment before continuing. “And of course, it’s never going to be a quick thing. ‘_Oi, love, let’sss jussst nip over here for five minutess and handle thisss. Back in a jiff!_” He sibilated semi-sarcastically in exasperation.

“Really, Crowley,” the angel scoffed. “Five minutes?”

“Oh, you are _absssolutely right_, Angel. Five minutesss might not be _nearly_ enough if thingsss get out of hand. Better make it _sssixxxx_.” If he weren’t a supernatural entity who, on occasion, moonlighted as a serpent, the sheer ferocity of the fluidity of his neck as he spoke would have been impossssible.

Aziraphale sighed, unimpressed by the display. “I rather suppose if it were that simple, She wouldn’t need us to do it, now, would She?”

Crowley groaned. “I know, Angel. Of course you’re right, I know.” He looked up, holding his hand out in exasperation. “I just would like _one day_, for at least 24 solid hours, to not have to worry about any of this. At least one day.”

A new countdown timer appeared on his watch.

“What just happened?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley looked at the watch that appeared on his wrist in spite of having been placed on the bedside table the night before. “It’s a count-down.” He offered his wrist to the angel. “But what does it mean?”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened as he smiled, “She _did_ say She always heard your prayers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we all take in a nice, deep breath to relax and enjoy the day. 
> 
> I have more written. The goal is for daily updates, where possible, going forward.


	11. Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale enjoy some brief, yet well-earned, time together.  
Sandalphon, aka the Divine Punchline, enters the ring... er, shop.

Finally, an entire day to themselves, to do anything they wanted, to just _be_ and not be concerned with what anyone else thought or wanted or said or did. Time for them to be _normal_.

Well, their version of normal, anyway, which could only be called normal in the academic sense. In other words, not particularly normal _at all._

Crowley began rubbing his hands together as a devilish look crossed his face.

“Well,” Aziraphale began. “What are you in the mood for now? Did you have something in mind?”

“I do,” the demon grinned as he leaned forward, elbows on the table, running his spoon along his jaw, down his chin, and pointing it at the angel. “It rhymes with _luck_.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Is it duck? It’s duck, isn’t it? You want to go feed the ducks, don’t you?”

Crowley’s face lit up. “You know me so well, Angel. Do we have any frozen peas?”

“Frozen peas?”

“It’s better for ‘em than bread.”

“How noble of you,” Aziraphale eyed him suspiciously.

“Eh… It’s also possible I’d like to see if I can bounce the little green pellets off of their evil, toothy little beaks.”

“Charming.”

“But first, I’ll take you to lunch, anywhere you want to go.”

“Well, that does sound nice,” the angel smiled. “Perhaps we can try somewhere new that we’ve never been before.” His face brightened. “It could be like an adventure!”

“An excellent idea, Angel! You really are so wonderfully clever.” He licked his lips as he stood up to go get dressed. “And if you behave yourself, later we might just see what other rhymes we can come up with.”

Aziraphale’s eyes twinkled over the edge of his cup as he drank in both his tea and the view of his demon running up the stairs.

He had absolutely _no_ intention of behaving himself.

“You were right, you know,” Aziraphale said, before he delicately brought his spoon to his mouth, sighing softly.

“Course I was,” Crowley replied fondly, paying closer attention to the spoon and the lips it had passed than the conversation. “What are you talking about, though?”

“What you said earlier, about it being too long.”

Another bite, one swallowing confection and the other swallowing something closer to the thrilling frustration of vicarious anticipation.

“Oh?”

The angel nodded as he licked his spoon clean and placed it delicately on the plate in front of him. “I was thinking. Perhaps instead of heading towards the park, we might…”

“Not yet, Angel.” Crowley had a plan, a plan that was meant to justify and validate all of the weirdness in their lives. A plan which involved being out, being at peace, with the exception of harassing waterfowl, and basically doing perfectly normal things together as a couple. A plan that involved ducks. _Maybe some not-so-normal things as well, _he thought._ No sense in ruling anything out just yet._ Crowley was known for his imagination, after all. “As tempting as that sounds, and I can assure you that it does, I have every intention of visiting the ducks next.”

Aziraphale pouted vaguely demonward.

“Oh, that’s not fair, Aziraphale. You’re entirely too talented at that.”

An eyebrow was cocked and loaded.

“Oh, don’t you weaponize those eyebrows at _me_, Aziraphale Z. Fell!” The demon’s eyes widened playfully. “I’ll not stand for it!”

A slight tilt to the head completed step three.

“Oh, you have _got_ to be _kidding_ me, Angel! What’s gotten into you today?”

Aziraphale grinned wickedly as he stood up. He leaned his lips in next to Crowley’s ear and said, quietly, “Not sure. Perhaps I’d rather think about what’s going to be getting into _you_ today.” He stood to leave, tracing his fingers up the demon’s arm and off of his shoulder as he walked towards the exit.

“Ngk…erm… uh,” Crowley sputtered, blushing as he jumped up, pulling a wad of bills out of his wallet to throw down on the table. “I told you, you insatiable bastard, I _am_ throwing things at the ducks today, and I won’t be buggered until I do!” He called out as he rushed to catch up.

It was the angel’s turn to blush as he wove his way past the other customers and wait staff, carefully avoiding any of the amused eyes he could feel coming from all directions as he made his way through the center of the restaurant towards the exit. He mentally crossed this establishment off of his list for the foreseeable future.

Because the only power stronger than Aziraphale’s patented Puppy Dog Eye Wishes™ was his love for Crowley, and in this moment, possibly his embarrassment, they went to throw things at the ducks.

After what Aziraphale deemed an appropriate amount of time had passed, he resumed his chase. It wasn’t necessary, of course. He knew that they’d come together organically over the course of the evening. But he had spent so long pushing these feelings away as if they were wrong, and being able to be bold and brazen was thrilling.

He had known, as they had been restricted only to this much for thousands of years, that flirting with Crowley was _fun_. It wasn’t without its own frustrations, but it was something they could share. It was safe. It meant nothing and _everything_ all at once, and it was _theirs_. It was a dance, just for the two of them, that made so much of their existence more satisfying and less lonely. Looking back, he realized that Crowley had figured this out far sooner than he himself had.

_I wonder if he actually thought I got myself locked up in the Bastille because I wanted _crepes_ of all things_, Aziraphale thought to himself, smiling.

Crowley didn’t. Mostly. There probably had been a chance, knowing Aziraphale’s insufferable sweet-tooth as he did, but Crowley knew. He understood fully what the angel was doing. More importantly, the demon absolutely _adored_ him for it.

Things were different now, as they had been since the trial and executions. Once the fear of what their prospective sides _might_ have done had been removed, flirting had graduated into something more robust and enthusiastically gymnastic, but there was still a layer of fear holding them back, at least partially. There was still the compulsion to look over their shoulders_ just in case._

But that was all in the past. They had been given Divine Blessing, and Aziraphale was ready to drop to his knees and join together in reverent worship at the temple of his serpent.

“So,” the angel leaned into the demon to whisper. “Now that you’ve properly harassed the ducks, might I tempt you to ruffle a different sort of feather?”

Crowley grinned and leaned back against the other side of the bench, looking the angel up and down, forked tongue darting past sharp teeth to wet his lips.

Aziraphale smirked, opening his mouth to speak. His thought was interrupted as he noticed Crowley’s hand reaching inside of the bag in his lap. “What are you doing?”

Crowley’s grin spread up to the corners of his eyes, just barely visible around his sunglasses, as he slowly withdrew his hand from the bag.

“Crowley, don’t you dare!”

The demon flicked a pea at the angel.

Aziraphale just sat there in shock, staring at Crowley as he tried to formulate a word.

Crowley took this opportunity to jump up off of the bench and run, laughing as he looked back to see that Aziraphale had taken the bait and was chasing after him.

If Crowley were telling this story, he’d suggest that he slowed down on purpose so that Aziraphale could catch him. Aziraphale, however, will explain that when Crowley looked back, he stumbled, which led Aziraphale to collide with him, knocking them both to the ground.

The end result would be the same.

After a few blissful moments rolling around on the soft grass, laughing and holding onto one another without giving a thought to who might be watching, the two got up, brushed themselves off, and headed home.

It was late in the morning when they awoke, an untamed, tangled mess of wild hair, limbs, and sheets. The timer on Crowley’s watch glowed 00:00 brightly as the door to the bookshop chimed downstairs.

“Oh, She’s _hilarious_,” Crowley groaned as they struggled to disengage themselves from one another to get presentable and head downstairs.

“I received a memo stating to arrive here at precisely 10:07 am, and not one minute sooner. It is now 10:09. I have been waiting for two entire minutes.”

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a look.

“Pleasure as always, Sandalphon,” Aziraphale’s voice was artificially polite in a shade of sarcasm that was lost on the visiting angel. He remembered the last time they had encountered one another. Or, rather, his own soft middle being _encountered_ by Sandalphon’s fist. “What brings you to the shop this morning?”

“I received a memo stating to arrive here at pre—”

“Yes, yes, you’ve said,” Crowley groaned. “But what do you need? What are you here to do?”

“I just do what the memos tell me.”

They all looked back and forth at one another. There was usually some sort of conversation that led up to one of their _meetings_. While not completely necessary, as they didn’t explicitly control the scenarios in the Epiphanies, it was good to have a little bit of an understanding of what approach they might need to take. Going in unprepared wasn’t something either of them ever wanted to risk again if they didn’t have to.

Aziraphale had wondered if things could have turned out differently on their first experience, but Crowley had assured him it wasn’t so. Still, maybe it wouldn’t have been as hard on Crowley, and by extension as hard on Aziraphale, had they been better prepared. They decided to wait a moment to give their visitor an opportunity to gather his thoughts before they broached the subject.

The silence seemed to stretch out for an uncomfortably awkward eternity.

Crowley remembered the way Sandalphon and… well, anyway, he remembered the way they grabbed one another’s hands when he spit Hellfire at them during Aziraphale’s execution. He wondered if there had been anything more to that other than blind loyalty to position. It didn’t really seem like something one of Heaven’s angels would do on their own, cold as they had been, but then again, that’s what this whole business their new jobs was all about. He thought about the story Aziraphale had told him of the angels approaching him on the street. No, that wasn’t right. _It wasn’t an approach. It was an attack. They—_

_Stop it. Now is not the time to get worked up_. Crowley thought._ That will only make it that much more difficult to do whatever it is that must be done_.

Sandalphon, ever the consummate conversationalist, pulled out his fob watch and flipped it open. “Right, I’ll be off then.”

“You what?” Crowley and Aziraphale, wide-eyed, both trying to prepare for the worst, looked at him incredulously.

“The memo said I only needed to stay for six full minutes, and then I was instructed to leave. Toodle-oo,” he said with a gold-flecked smile that closer resembled a grimace before leaving the bookshop.

“Right,” Aziraphale said. “Well, that was a thing.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, at the door, and back at his angel again, furrowing his eyebrows and huffing slightly.

Somewhere, in a far-flung corner of the world, a barren patch of wasteland grew lush and verdant as God laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say I'm ashamed of myself for that ridiculous pun about Sandalphon being the _ Punchline_ due to him both punching Aziraphale in episode 4 as well as being the delivery of God's practical joke, but I liked it enough to put it in my initial chapter outline and then point it out here.  
  
So yeah, I'm okay with not being particularly cool. I'm still having fun. ;)  
I hope you all are, too, because it's about to get a bit more interesting.  
We're not done yet.  
And if you're wondering why there wasn't more with Sandalphon, it's because I got the general idea that he pretty much just does what he's told and doesn't worry too much about it. You might feel differently, and that's okay. If you do, feel free to tell me why in the comments!


	12. Too Much Love Will Kill You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's a demon to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.

The rest of the day after Sandalphon’s visit was blessedly uneventful. As the days turned into weeks, meetings grew further apart, each a little easier than the previous. Unknown angels, who had begun to question their own roles in the aftermath of the failed Apocalypse, visited the shop with less and less frequency.

It was so much simpler, Crowley thought, to perform these tasks. There were no biases in place, other than that of Heaven itself. Nothing to push down. It was almost cathartic, really. The two of them had been able to do so much to help without having to wade through and force down any feelings of their own.

Maybe now they could begin to relax.

Maybe not.

Probably not.

Aziraphale heard the shop door, the same that he was quite sure was locked, chime open at the same time that Crowley sniffed the air. Crowley let out a hiss, alerting Aziraphale to the nature of their current visitor. He didn’t have time to grab his sunglasses before Aziraphale was already blocking the exit.

They struggled getting into the main area of the shop through the door of the back room. This was large in part due to them both trying to jump in front of one another as a shield to pull the other behind them. After a bit of bickering and shuffling, Aziraphale eventually won out, firmly holding Crowley behind him as they stalked through the door.

“Hastur!” Crowley growled from over Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“My dear fellow, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but we really are quite certainly clo—Excuse me, but you _cannot_ smoke that in here! This is a bookshop! I must insist that you extinguish it at once!”

The Duke of Hell cut his eyes between the two as he dropped his cigarette onto the floor.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Crowley snarled. He somehow looked slightly less intimidating with his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder while his delicate wrists were pinned together by firm, strong, angelic hands in front of Aziraphale’s waist, but he didn’t let that stop him from trying.

Hastur stalked forward, crushing his spent cigarette under his foot.

“You already know you can’t kill either of us. So why are you here?” Aziraphale spoke, pressing himself further between the two demons as one of them quietly hissed like a leaking balloon behind him.

“There’s a new Duke of Hell. Uh, Li-, Ligor’s replacement.” Hastur sniffed and cleared his throat. “Said I should come and talk to you two.”

Crowley’s eyes widened slightly. “He… told you… to come to _us_ for help?”

Hastur glared him, but said nothing.

_Oh. Oh, no. _

_This one was going to **hurt**_, Crowley thought.

Hastur looked towards the door as if he were searching for something in the darkness. He turned his head back up at them with a look Crowley had never imagined would ever cross the Duke’s face.

Grief.

Crowley had put several expressions on Hastur’s face over the centuries. Anger, frustration, torment. One time, he even managed a little delight, but that probably had more to do with Crowley being chased through town by a hording mob of villagers, complete with torches and pitch forks, during one of their check-ins.

“Er, Hastur, is it? Yes, um, _hello_.” Aziraphale smiled politely. “If you wouldn’t mind, could you excuse us for a moment? There’s a dear.” He smiled again and pulled Crowley off to the side.

When he felt confident they were outside of earshot, he began to whisper. “Crowley, you can’t be serious.”

“What?”

“Could it even work?”

“Why not?”

“He’s a _demon_.”

“What am I? An _aardvark_?” He hissed angrily.

Aziraphale glared. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“’Fraid I don’t, Angel. Not this time.”

Aziraphale sighed in frustration. “Could… Could we even reach him?”

“New title or not, I’m still a demon, Aziraphale. God might have given you Her Blessing to work and be together, but She didn’t change anything else for either of us. I didn’t Rise and you didn’t Fall. You do realize that it takes the both of us to do this, don’t you? Or have you forgotten that?” Crowley looked at him, narrowing his eyes, blinking once to suggest the angel might want to consider his next words more carefully before speaking them.

Aziraphale took the hint. He knew it wasn’t a _love conquers all_ sort of moment. This was something that truly bothered Crowley about himself. He might not have wanted to call himself an angel, but he definitely didn’t identify well with the trappings of being a demon, no matter how much he tried to convince everyone otherwise. And he _really_ tried. It was one thing to be mischievous or a nuisance. That was fun. It was quite a different thing to really _hurt_ someone. Crowley wasn’t evil, but he was marked just the same. Aziraphale wished he could convince Crowley to stop seeing himself as something sinful and wrong. He was so much more. Even God had acknowledged this. Why wouldn’t Crowley?

“You aren’t like other demons, my dear. You’re…” His words were failing him, so he grasped at the first one he could think of, speaking it even more quietly, almost mouthing it. “_Special_.”

“Special, Angel? Really?”

“Well, yes. I rather think you are. And I’m not the only one.” Aziraphale looked up at him with the most delicate whisper of a lift of his eyebrows.

Crowley’s eyes softened. He couldn’t stay mad at the angel, not with that look. That was a look that could melt the even the darkest of hearts. Which is probably why Crowley’s own radiant heart had been so completely enraptured and hopelessly devoted to it for so long.

“But more importantly,” Aziraphale continued, “is that we don’t know what might happen.”

“We didn’t know what might’ve happened at all when we first started this, love.”

The angel’s whisper resembled more of a strangled shout. “And look where that got us!” He caught himself, becoming quiet once more. “What would it _do_ to you?”

Crowley closed his eyes, thinking for a moment. He took a deep breath and looked into the angel’s eyes. “Probably less than I did to him.”

Aziraphale’s face, though still showing heavy concern, softened as he rubbed Crowley’s arm reassuringly. He saw something in the demon’s eyes that he expected he wasn’t supposed to see. Guilt. _Will you ever stop punishing yourself_? He thought. “This is important to you, isn’t it?”

Crowley looked over Aziraphale’s shoulder to meet the eyes of Hastur. The Duke rubbed the back of his hand past his nose as he quickly looked away.

“Yeah.”

They walked back over to Hastur.

“Are you ready?” Aziraphale asked.

“What are you going to do?” Hastur asked in return.

“Improvise,” Crowley replied.

Aziraphale was unable to mask his concern as he looked over at him.

“I don’t trust you,” Hastur said.

“You came to us. We didn’t seek you out,” Aziraphale said.

“Doesn’t mean I have to trust you.”

“My dear fellow, what were you expecting to happen when you came here?”

Hastur grunted with a shrug, looking down. After a moment, he asked, “What ‘m I supposed to do now?”

“Stay there,” Crowley said as he took Aziraphale’s hand and extended his wings.

“This better not be a trick,” Hastur said nervously as their wings surrounded him. “Or it’ll take more than Holy water to stop me.”

_Oh. There it is, _ Aziraphale thought.

_This one is **definitely** going to hurt._

The pair began to release their light into the their enclosed wings as their minds connected. Crowley’s light was erratic, shaking and volatile.

Something was wrong.

Aziraphale tried to keep his light as steady as possible to counterbalance, but he wasn’t sure how effective it would be. His side wasn’t the side of emotions.

His side.

What did he mean by that? He was on his side now. This is what he fought for, so he could be on his own side together.

He didn’t know. He knew he would have to have this conversation when he wasn’t blended together with himself. His thoughts were merged, but something was off this time. How could he convince himself he was on his own side with himself if he couldn’t even do it when he was one mind?

He could feel himself slipping away.

The connection broke with a blinding flash of light.

Crowley and Aziraphale stood before the door to Crowley’s building. Aziraphale, seeing the snake-like buzzer, pushed the button.

Crowley kicked in the door.

They walked upstairs until they came to Crowley’s flat.

Crowley kicked in this door as well and followed Aziraphale down the hallway.

_“Crowley!” _A bodiless voice called out.

Hearing the sound, they turned a corner.

_“Crooooowleeeeey!” _The voice echoed, beckoning them further.

They came to a door that was slightly ajar. Aziraphale pushed it open, walking through first.

_No, wait, don’t—_

Crowley watched in horror as a bucket crashed down over Aziraphale, drenching and dissolving him into steam and sludge.

It wasn’t instantaneous. There was time to suffer. There was time to scream. So much screaming.

He reached out towards what was left of his angel, only distantly aware that the screaming he heard was his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you don't want to hear this, but it's necessary for now.
> 
> And not just because [my yogurt got ruined.](https://amadness2method.tumblr.com/post/186989589886/writing-fanfiction-when-youre-emotional)  
But that didn't help matters.  
I will make it up to you, but you'll have to be patient.  
If it helps, think about earlier chapters where you were happy, because we're embarking on a journey.


	13. We Will Rock You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you repair broken demons in a broken Epiphany?

  
**_“CROWLEY!!!”_**

Something was wrong. His throat was raw. Had he been screaming?

** _“CROWLEY, CAN YOU HEAR ME???”_ **

Crowley barely felt the hands clutching both sides of his face.

** **

** _“CROWLEY, PLEASE!!!”_ **

** **

He was crying. Why was he crying? _Was_ he crying?

_Someone_ was crying.

* * *

As soon as Aziraphale felt their link break and Crowley slip away, he reached out to try to grab him before he was consumed by a flash of light. Aziraphale shielded his eyes with his hands. When he pulled them back down, he was in total darkness.

“Let there be light!”

A soft glow rose above him as he looked around, trying to get his bearings. He was alone in a strangely familiar place. _Have I been here before?_

He stepped closer to the walls to get a better look. The walls and floor were coated in grime and in obvious disrepair. Broken light fixtures were powerless in cracked ceiling tiles.

_Why does this look so familiar?_

He came upon a door with a snake-like buzzer.

This was Crowley’s building.

_Crowley_.

Aziraphale clawed desperately at the door trying to pry it open. Something was wrong. Aziraphale knew this building was kept in better shape in the real world. Crowley would never have let it fall into such disrepair. _He should **be** here_, he thought,_ with **me**_.

“Crowley!” He called out into the darkness just before the door swung open. Cautiously, his Holy light hovering above his head, he ascended the stairs.

The further in Aziraphale went, the worse the conditions of the building. There were holes in the floor, vermin skittering along cracks in the walls, and bits of ceiling sagging with water stains. Aziraphale was worried.

“Crooooowleeeeey!” He called out, desperately.

He heard screaming and ran towards it.

He saw light that was not his own up ahead through the partially-opened door to the next room. Carefully, he slipped through without touching anything.

Aziraphale gasped. He had found Crowley. Sort of. But not completely.

The demon sat motionless in what had once been a grand and spectacular throne, now mostly shattered and tattered. Dim light filtered through filthy windows across his expressionless face, wet with tears that steadily fell from the empty eyes that stared through the angel into nothing. Aziraphale had seen this look before.

**“CROWLEY!”**

The angel rushed over to the demon, kneeling before him, grabbing his hands.

“Crowley, can you hear me?” He pulled the demon to him. He held Crowley’s face in his hands and let out a sob, pressing his lips against the demon’s own. “Crowley, please!” He begged as he gently rocked back and forth.

He felt Crowley shift slightly in his arms. Letting out a watery cry of surprise, he looked down to see the demon’s eyes try to focus on him.

“This isn’t real,” Crowley’s raw voice rasped. “You’re dead.”

More tears ran down his face, but not all of them were his own.

“No, my love, I’m here. I’m right here. Come back to me, please. Come back. I’ve got you,” Aziraphale said. He brushed the hair off of Crowley’s forehead with his right hand, leaving a faint glimmer of golden light in its wake.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley’s eyes focused fully on him as he reached up to touch the angel’s face. “You’re really here?”

Aziraphale let out a small gasp of relief and smiled at Crowley as he nodded. He rose to his feet, helping the demon stand up with him, forehead to forehead, just holding one another tightly for a few minutes. He didn’t want to break their embrace, but this wasn’t exactly a time for relaxation.

What had previously been dark and destroyed was bright and clean. Everything was pristine and in order, save for four things. The first two were on the desk. A tartan thermos sitting in between a pair black industrial gloves, and a large book with a loose page laying on top. The last two, wet spots in the floor, were the most obvious. One was directly by the desk. It seemed to be freshly-spilled water. Bits of broken plastic suggested something had burst. The other, however, was closer to the door. It appeared to be spilled muck and the platonic idea of suffering.

Aziraphale looked around the room to get his bearings. He glanced at the puddle of goo, then the thermos on the desk. “Oh, Crowley,” his voice suddenly full of sympathy. “This is where it happened, isn’t it?”

“I never wanted you to see this, Angel.” Crowley matched Aziraphale’s sympathy with his own regret. “I never wanted you to see _any_ of this.”

Aziraphale looked around, taking in the rest of the scene. “Crowley,” he began as cautiously as he could. “Where were you, just now?”

Crowley sighed and turned around as if he were trying to decide whether or not to answer. “Here, sort of. That day, when Hell came for me, I was here, sitting in this chair, when the Holy water fell on Ligur. I remember that. I should only remember it from _here_.” He pointed harshly at his chair before turning back around. His face was haunted. “But I also remember it from out _there_. I don’t know how I could. I remember kicking in doors and following him up, then watching him from behind as he walked right underneath it,” Crowley shuddered, “And I also remember it being you that walked through. I remember three different ways this happened, but I know I should only have seen one.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Can’t say that I blame you. I’m not too sure of any of this myself. I have no idea what’s happening, where Hastur is, or what rules even apply to how we’re going to get out of this.” Crowley sighed, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to _do_, Aziraphale. I think I’m in over my head this time.” He growled at himself. “I’m so sorry I got you into this, Angel. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” Aziraphale’s voice was breathy with the quiet uncertainty of someone who, not for the first time today, forced himself together while he felt like coming apart. Seeing Crowley so shaken didn’t bear thinking about. They had to figure out a way to resolve this, they just had to. He turned away from Crowley and looked around the office again, hoping to find some sort of clue. He feared it would only serve as a way to hide his own doubts from the demon. Aziraphale glanced down at the desk again, noticing the page on top of the book. He reached out to grab it just as they heard a noise out on the balcony.

“Where is it? I can’t…” Hastur was leaned over the balcony, elbows on the railing, clawing at his head as broken bits and pieces of memories fluttered into gaps without fitting back together. “I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember?”

Crowley and Aziraphale stepped out onto the balcony.

“You dirty snake!” Hastur shrieked. “You took my memories!” He was shaking with rage. “You already took him from me once. Can’t take him again. You’re just gonna have to kill me.” His expression shifted to anguish. “But that won’t work, either. If I’m not around, who’s gonna remember him? He’ll be gone all over again.” Hastur sat down hard on the ground with defeat.

He looked up at the two of them, his black-oil-slick eyes pleading. “Give him back.”

Though Crowley didn’t strictly know how to do so, he believed he _should_. He knew he didn’t want the extra memories, which made him feel guilty because he had been the one to set the trap. But he felt even more guilt knowing that the memories didn’t belong to him. He had no right to them. With a snap of his fingers, he pulled the moments of Ligur that weren’t his to possess out of his own mind and returned them to the Duke.

Hastur closed his eyes. “I never even got to say goodbye. We was cuttin’ up like always, then poof! Gone. Well, I tell a lie. It wasn’t that fast.”

Crowley cringed and looked away. Aziraphale cradled his elbow, rubbing his forearm.

“Ngk… ‘M sorry.”

Hastur looked up, his dark eyes shining like pools of iodine and ichor. “You’re not.”

“I am, sort of.” Crowley bit his lip.

Hastur scoffed. “Sort of? What’s that ‘sposed to mean? You’re _sort of_ sorry you murdered my best mate right in front of me?”

Crowley visibly crumpled. “What I mean is, I don’t regret defending myself.”

Hastur glared up at him. “He hadn’t done nothing to you.”

“He expected you were going to kill him, and possibly me,” Aziraphale began to speak. “You must understand, Hastur, that it wouldn’t have mattered who had come for him. It could have been anyone.”

“Ligur weren’t just anyone, wank-wings,” Hastur’s voice rose in pitch sharply, drenched in a blend of sorrow and disgust. “Demons don’t got friends, but he was _mine_.”

“Some demons do,” Aziraphale looked Crowley fondly.

Hastur studied the two of them for a bit, looking back and forth as the wheels began turning in his head.

“I would have done anything to protect Aziraphale, Hastur,” Crowley said.

Hastur turned his head to look at him, but said nothing.

“And that, I do not regret.” Crowley took a deep breath before continuing on. “But I took something from you, in the most horrifying way. And for _that_, I’m sorry.”

A small, mirthless laugh escaped Hastur’s throat.

“Can you say you wouldn’t have done the same, Hastur?” Aziraphale asked.

“What are you on about?” He rose to his feet to look the angel in the eye.

“What would you have done to protect yourself, and to protect Ligur?” Aziraphale asked him coolly.

“Well, I wouldn’t have turned Holy water on another demon to do it!” He barked back.

“No, I suppose not.” The angel arched an eyebrow on an otherwise stoic face. “You did that _after_.” Aziraphale’s voice was eerily calm with just enough of a hint of steel to make one think twice.

Hastur’s eyes widened.

“And if it had worked on Crowley, too, you would have done it _twice_ in one day.” The hint became a full-blown suggestion.

“You angels really are smug bastards,” Hastur glowered.

“It comes with the halo,” he shrugged.

“I suppose it does,” Hastur let out half of a laugh in spite of himself.

There was a silence as the three of them looked out into the night sky from the balcony.

“Never told him,” Hastur muttered.

“What’s that?” Aziraphale leaned in slightly to listen closer.

“Never told him how much…” Hastur sighed. “Just never told him. Can’t tell him nothin’ now. Doesn’t exist anymore. Would if I could.”

Aziraphale looked around Hastur to see Crowley looking down at the ground.

Hastur, catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, turned to face Aziraphale directly. “Didn’t even get to say goodbye. Didn’t know there weren’t more time.”

Some of the initial irritation the angel had for the Duke fell away just then as their eyes met with understanding.

Hastur nodded towards the paper in Aziraphale’s hand.  
“What’s that?”

“Oh, I’m not sure.” Aziraphale looked down at the page he hadn’t realized he still had with him. “It was in Crowley’s office. It appears to be some form of constellation, I believe.”

“I helped build that one,” Crowley said softly.

“It’s beautiful, my dear,” Aziraphale said, walking over to Crowley, placing his hand on his lower back, tracing in soothing circles. “You made such lovely stars. I would have liked to have watched you hang them.”

Hastur looked at them forlornly and then back up into the sky.

Crowley’s eyes widened, looking back and forth as inspiration struck. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course.”

Crowley leaned over to Hastur. “Stay here.”

Hastur ignored him. He didn’t have anywhere else to go anyway.

Crowley opened his wings and climbed up to stand on the rail of the balcony. He smiled so exquisitely. Aziraphale had earlier been concerned he might never see Crowley smile like that again. Crowley extended his right hand out. “Come with me, Angel."

"Where are we going?"

"It’s time to hang more stars.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got a little bit away from me, but it was important to me to split it up where I did.


	14. We Are The Champions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What has been lost can found among the stars

Hand in hand, Crowley and Aziraphale shot into the sky, crow-black and dove-white wings beating out a rhythm to the universe. Crowley let out a peal of delight as they soared higher and higher. Aziraphale closed his eyes, allowing Crowley to guide him, savoring the feeling as the wind rushed over his face until they breached the atmosphere.

“Right. This is it,” Crowley said quietly. “We’re here.” He looked nervous.

“What do we do now?”

“Just… Just give me a moment to check something.”

Crowley looked like he was holding his breath in spite of not needing to breathe in space, even a magical mental construct of the vacuum of space. Tentatively, he closed his eyes and lifted his hands, wiggling his long fingers gently before making a motion to dip them into an unseen substance. When he opened his eyes, he gasped and clutched his hands to his chest, shaking slightly. He carefully reached back out to drag a single finger through the darkness. A smudge of blue trailed behind it. Seemingly emboldened, he dipped his fingers into the ether again and dragged his entire hand across, leaving a rainbow of light in its wake.

Aziraphale wasn’t sure what the look on Crowley’s face was, but it closely resembled shock. “Are you quite all right, my dear?”

“Oh, yes,” Crowley whispered, his shock quickly turning into excitement.

“Do you really think this is going to help?”

Crowley grinned playfully as he scattered glittering colors into the space around him. “No idea.”

“Not that I’m not enjoying what you’re doing, my dear, but shouldn’t we be focusing on solving the problem?”

Still grinning as he finger-painted through the cosmos, Crowley replied, “We’ll try that next if this doesn’t work.”

“But—”

“Aziraphale, listen to me for a moment. I know you like to think things through, and that’s so important. You’re the stable, sensible anchor that keeps me from drifting away and becoming lost, or setting out on a path of destruction. I need that, I need _you_, in my life. You are my gravity, but you’re also more. And I used to think I was just a black hole that destroyed everything that got near me. But when I’m with you, I feel brighter, more luminous. That is one of so many reasons why we fit together like two ridiculous idiot-shaped pieces of an ineffable puzzle.”

Aziraphale grinned. “Ineffable? I thought that word was off-limits.”

“Well,” Crowley drawled slightly. “I suddenly find myself in a charitable mood.” He took Aziraphale’s left hand in his own, opened it up, and traced a binary quasar in stardust into the angel’s palm. “That’s us,” he said as he marveled at the reflection of his own creation in Aziraphale’s shining eyes. “You’ve changed me, Aziraphale. You lit up my darkness, made me less destructive, and turned me into something new, something better.”

Aziraphale gasped softly in wonder as he stared at the cosmic symbol of new growth and different evolutions Crowley had placed in the palm of his hand. “And you have done the same for me, my dear.”

“The point I’m getting at here is that you make me want to try _more_, because I know you’ll catch me if I fall. Because you’ve been doing that for 6000 years. You took a void and filled it with light. And now I get to _try_. I get to try and maybe even succeed. And if I don’t, I get to fall back into you until we come up with a new way to try, all over again, together.”

Aziraphale beamed at him in loving awe. “Always.”

Crowley laughed with delight as he danced around the night sky, slinging colors and lights, dipping his fingers into the ether and flicking out glittering motes into the darkness. He lovingly scooped them up and pressed them together until they swirled and twinkled in his hands.

When Crowley was satisfied that he had enough to begin, he moved towards an existing group of stars.

“What are you doing?” Aziraphale’s voice was full of fascination and curiosity.

Crowley turned around to face him, haloed completely by an aura of glittering bejeweled grace and starlight. He smiled the most radiant and resplendent smile Aziraphale had ever borne witness to. “I’m _trying_.”

_When I think of the joy of Heaven_, Aziraphale thought as he watched in awe and reverence,_ I will remember this moment. I will remember when he painted the sky with stars. I will remember when he turned pain and void into beauty and delight._ _This,_ Aziraphale realized, _is more Holy and full of love than the starkness of the tragic approximation of a Heaven that lacked the flow of comfort and joy._

Aziraphale thought he would never tire of watching Crowley like this. He watched as the former angel lovingly and considerately positioned his new stars among those he had placed even before the Earth was new. As he added more and more, shaping them, guiding them, Aziraphale’s eyes grew wide in realization of what was happening. His heart was so full he didn’t think his bodily corporation could have held it were they on Earth proper.

When he was finished, Crowley rubbed his hands together and blew the remaining stardust out into his creation, giving it life, light, and love.

“Angel, thank you for this.”

“You are of course welcome, but I hardly did anything.”

“You don’t understand. I couldn’t have done this without you. This… This is another way you make me better. This is another way you fill me with light.” His voice was low and reverent.

“I don’t understand.”

“I haven’t made stars since… Well, since _before_. I tried, you know, a-after. Nothing happened.” Crowley’s chin was near-quivering, his eyes casting rainbows as tears caught residual stardust to twinkle down his face.

_You are so truly beautiful_, Aziraphale thought._ Is this how you looked before? You are more Holy than you will ever admit, but I see you. Are you happy here? I will do whatever I must to bring back what you’ve lost and make you whole. When you are reduced to your base elements, I will help you to heal and build you up stone by stone if that is what it takes._

Crowley smiled through his tears. “I know this place isn’t real. I… I know that. But, but this, right here, right now? Everything we’re doing in this world that we made together? It _feels_ real. I thought I’d never get to feel this joy ever again, Angel. Thank you.”

“I love you,” Aziraphale spoke to seal his benediction.

“I love you,” Crowley replied, falling past the brink of bliss and sobbing gently.

Hand in hand, forehead to forehead, they took a moment to revel in their euphoria before returning to the Earth below.

Hastur was still on the balcony when they returned. If he noticed them, he didn’t acknowledge it. It wasn’t until they had taken positions on either side of him again that he spoke. “What now?”

“Do you see that bunch of stars?” Crowley pointed up to the sky. “That’s Pegasus. And there is Cepheus. Right there is Cygnus, and that’s Andromeda.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because, in the center of all of that,” Crowley picked up the book page off of the ground and handed it to the Duke, “is this.”

“What is it?” He asked, tilting the page back and forth.

“That,” he told Hastur, “is the constellation Lacerta.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Lizard.”

Hastur’s eyes widened as he looked back and forth between Crowley, the page in his hands, and the sky. “Th-, that…” He stuttered.

“Well, it’s _mostly_ Lacerta. I did add a few extra bits just now.”

“Extra bits? What do you mean by that?”

“You know, personalization. See that orange star right there?” He pointed.

“Ligur had orange eyes, too.”

“Yeah. But sometimes it might not look orange at all. The atmosphere, you know. Might look a different color… for a bit.”

“You remembered,” Hastur remarked in hushed awe.

Crowley shrugged.

Hastur continued to stare up into the sky.

“I know it doesn’t… I know nothing ever _could_…” Crowley sighed heavily. “I can’t fix what I did, Hastur. I can’t bring him back. I don’t have that kind of power. But I want you to know that I haven’t forgotten. He didn’t just blink out of existence, and it isn’t only you that noticed. But you noticed it more than anyone else, didn’t you?”

Hastur nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off of the newly updated constellation.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me. I don’t expect you to, at all. But I really _am_ sorry it came down to this. I don’t know if that’s what you need to hear—”

“It’s not.” Hastur cut him off.

“Okay.” Crowley nodded, rubbing the back of his own neck before looking back up at the sky.

They stood there in silence, Hastur between them, leaning on the balcony rail while looking up into the night sky.

“What’s going to happen to it when this is over?” Hastur eventually asked quietly.

“Hmm?” Crowley tilted his head towards the Duke.

“It’s not real, is it?”

“I don’t know. I hope it is.” Crowley looked back up at the sky.

“You said it was already there.”

“Ye-, yeah, that, th-, that one is real.” He tapped the page in Hastur’s hand. “But this one,” he pointed towards the sky, “this is yours. I made it for you. For him.”

“If I could take it with me, I would. Keep him with me.”

“Have you tried?” Aziraphale asked gently.

Hastur looked at the angel, his inky-black eyes wet and shining. “How?”

“Just reach out and grab it.”

Hastur looked to Crowley. Crowley nodded.

The Duke of Hell stood between the pair and reached his left hand up into the starry night sky. Lacerta, along with the extra bits, began to glow brighter. The constellation appeared to climb out of the sky itself, getting closer and closer until a glittering starry chameleon rested on the Duke’s hand, wrapping its tail around his arm.

The stars in the sky grew brighter and brighter, lighting up the twilight as if it were midday.

Hastur traced two fingers along the inside of his left wrist, over the new tattoo that had appeared there. It was an orange-eyed chameleon with a tail that wrapped completely around. Hastur closed his eyes and let out a ragged breath. Illuminated by the gentle glow of the bookshop lamps, the lines on his face softened just a bit. He seemed less burdened than before.

“Right,” he sniffed. Holding his wrist to his chest tightly, he cleared his throat with a sound reminiscent of glass in a garbage disposal. “Sod off, then, you two,” he said before turning around to leave the shop.

“You’d think he’d have been more appreciative,” Aziraphale said.

“Angel,” Crowley turned to him, grinning, “For Hastur, that was practically a _gush_.”

Aziraphale went to put the kettle on while Crowley followed Hastur to lock up behind him. He looked out through the shop window just in time to see the newest Duke of Hell nod and wink his amethyst eyes back at him, disappearing into the darkness after Hastur.

“You’re welcome,” Crowley whispered with a smile. “And thank you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've only got a few chapters left.  
When I initially came up with this concept, I anticipated it being around 5 chapters and under 10k words. Reactions from such wonderful readers made it so much more _fun_ to expand on the groundwork laid out in the plan that I almost don't want it to end.  
But end, it must, and it's coming soonish.  
But not today.  
Thank you all! I'm so glad to have you along for the ride.
> 
> If you have any questions, feel free to comment!
> 
> [Lacerta is real.](https://www.constellation-guide.com/constellation-list/lacerta-constellation/)


	15. Radio Ga Ga

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Sozzled Interlude in the back room of a bookshop in Soho

“No offense, Angel,” Crowley said as he entered the back room of the shop, “But I think I’m going to need something stronger than—”

Aziraphale pressed a glass of wine into Crowley’s hand. “Yes, I rather thought so, too. Well, I didn’t actually think about it so much as found myself with the bottle in hand when I had intended to start the kettle.”

Crowley tapped his temple with his finger and nodded as he took a sip. “Such a clever angel, you are.”

“Did you want to talk about… what happened?”

“A lot has happened, Aziraphale. I may need you to be more specific. And depending on how specific you get, I may also need more wine.”

“Obviously, I mean _today_.”

“So do I.” The playfulness of the demon’s expression did not undercut the sincerity of his words.

“Fine. Is there anything you _do not_ wish to talk about from today, then?”

“Yes. From the moment I woke up until you handed me this glass, I’d like to not talk about,” Crowley said, studying his glass. “Except that we should have mental auto-pilot Aziraphale select wine more often. This is delicious.”

“Don’t change the—” Aziraphale caught himself, deciding in that moment to change tactics. He’d find a way to get Crowley to relax enough to let his guard down without just forcing the issue. He was a patient angel, and he would give Crowley some time to get a little more comfortable with the idea. Whether or not he decided to talk about it, Aziraphale was determined to get him to relax and not dwell for too long on the metaphorical ghosts of the past. They had danced this dance before, dozens of times now that they had been working together in an officially-sanctioned manner. “I’m glad you approve.”

“What do you want?” Crowley eyed him, not suspiciously, but possibly a distant branch of the same family.

“Why ever would you insinuate that I might want something?” Aziraphale asked, innocently, glancing at Crowley from over the top of his wine glass as he sat down on the couch.

Crowley’s eyebrow arched. “You are up to no good.”

“Obviously,” Aziraphale grinned wickedly back, scooting over and patting the seat beside him. “Lots of no good deeds.”

“Fine,” he said as he settled in next to the angel, allowing himself to be pulled into a relaxing embrace at his side.

“Did you think I really couldn’t get out of the Bastille?”

“’Course not. I knew. Liked it.”

“You did? Really?” Aziraphale beamed, his eyes sparkling in a _very_ Aziraphale-like manner reserved almost exclusively for looking at Crowley and certain kitten videos on the internet.

Crowley jutted out his lip in a mock pout, lifting his head to look up at Aziraphale. “Made me feel like a big, bad demon, swooping in to rescue my fair angel. I figured your little ruses were the only shot I’d have at that sort of thing. Wasssssnice.” The dreamy look on his face was not lost on Aziraphale, but that wasn’t the point. Not that either of them were sure of the point at this… point. Perhaps it could be found at the bottom of the next bottle.

“Ruses?” Aziraphale asked, handing him an empty glass.

“Oh, come now, Angel. We both knew what we were doing. Eventually, anyway.” He leaned forward and refilled both of their glasses.

Aziraphale smirked while Crowley’s back was turned before giving him the most put-upon sigh he could possibly muster. “I suppose.”

“You did. You liked it. You liked it so much that you concocted ridiculous schemes to get my attention.”

Aziraphale feigned indignity as he scoffed. That may very well have been most certainly accurate, but there was no reason to admit to it. At least, not right now. “I did no such thing.”

“Angel, you’re so clever. There’s no way that _all_ of them were accidental. You may have your nose down in a book constantly, but I have heard rumor,” he pointed at Aziraphale from around his wine glass, “that books are veritable fonts of information.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale nodded exaggeratedly. “Oh, is that so?”

Crowley grinned, nodding back in the same silly manner.

“Aziraphale, you are perfectly… Perfect…ly… Perfect. Oh, you are a perfect bastard and you are _perfect_. Wait, I was going somewhere else with that. Still true, though. What was my point?”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened in anticipation of a recurring digression.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked, Aziraphale. I haven’t, haven’t even said it yet.”

“Yes, but you’re going to. I just know it.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were!”

“I _was not_. You’d properly kick my arse if I tried.”

“Crowley, really,” the angel scoffed.

“Ye-, yeah. You know damn good and well that if you wanted to, you could sling me around like… whatever it is that gets slung around… If… if you wanted to. Do… Do you want to?”

Before Aziraphale could answer, Crowley yelped, “That was my point! Okay, right? Yes. Good. You’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. You’re, you’re so clever, and you’re strong. Such strong, kind hands…” He trailed off momentarily as he grabbed one of Aziraphale’s hands and stared at it before pressing a kiss between each knuckle. “You are so strong and clever. You avoid a fight by diving in head-first to defy it before it ever begins. I do my best to avoid a fight by sneaking around it, but you—”

Aziraphale interrupted him, “I’ve had to jump in front of you plenty of times.”

“That’s different. I can’t help it. If I ever think you’re actually in danger, it’s… It’s not that I think you _can’t_ protect yourself. It’s that I don’t want you to _have_ to. I’d take any punishment thrown at you, Angel. Gladly.”

“Well, you needn’t do that. I don’t want that. You are too important to me.” He squeezed the demon’s hand gently.

“Anyway, yeah. You never _needed_ me to save you. You got yourself into trouble because you _liked it_.”

Aziraphale let out a tiny gasp. “I did no such thing!”

“You did! You liked it, I could tell. I could always tell. But you wanna know what the best part of it all was?”

“What?”

“The way you _always_ lit up when you said my name.” Crowley smiled sappily. “That’s how I knew, _really properly knew_, that this was all worth it. If all I had was _that look_, just for me and mine alone, it was enough. You can be terribly in-, incand-, inc-, you glow sometimes. S’nice. Made me feel, you know, whatever it is you feel when you feel appreciated.”

“Appreciated?” Aziraphale’s eyebrows raised slightly.

“Yes, that’s the word I was looking for.”

“That’s the word you said.”

“And I meant it. Every word.” Crowley looked positively smitten.

“It was just the one.”

“Had a lot of syllables, though.” Crowley _believed_ this was an accurate path in his logical argument, so it was.

“That it did,” the angel agreed as his eyes, drunk on more than mere wine, twinkled.

“Still does.”

“Does what?”

“Have a lot of syllables. There’s at least…” Crowley began counting on his fingers, “At least three of them.” It was entirely possible that he was counting the syllables in the word _syllable_ instead.

“That’s true. What was your point, my dear?”

Crowley scrunched up his nose and curled his lip slightly. “I don’t like it when you ask me questions and I’m not allowed to answer them.”

“_That_ was your point?”

“Indirectly. I think. Wait, no, actually, it wasn’t. I really _did_ have another point. You’re just so distracting.”

Aziraphale grinned demurely.

“Rag dolls!” Crowley exclaimed.

“What about them?” Aziraphale asked, taking Crowley’s empty glass as it was his turn to refill it.

“That’s what gets slung around.”

Aziraphale glared at the demon’s empty glass, but decided to refill it anyway. “You know, Crowley, I’ve been thinking…”

“You know, I believe I _have_ seen you do that from time to time,” he grinned at the angel in that infuriatingly endearing way.

Aziraphale cut and rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me regret this. Anyway, as I was saying, now that the two of us have been blessed in the eyes of God—"

“But,” Crowley interrupted again, taking a large swallow of wine, “are you verified on Twitter?”

Aziraphale was so stunned he lost his train of thought. “I don’t know. What’s a Twitter?”

“I’m atwitter for you.”

Aziraphale smiled fondly. “That’s lovely. Did you make that up yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Really?” There was that smile again.

“Er… maybe? Sort of. I don’t know. I’d actually be surprised if I were the first to say it. Twitter has been around for a few years.”

“I still don’t know what it is.”

“Tweets, Aziraphale. People tweet.”

Aziraphale leaned around the ridiculously long and lanky legs in his lap while looking at him to convey a solid sense of disbelief. It was partially genuine, but only because he still couldn’t understand the physics of a Crowley sprawl.

“It’s… It’s like a… D’you remember the bird?”

“Don’t start that again.”

“No, no. Nonono. This is an _internet_ bird.”

“_You’re_ an internet bird,” Aziraphale glared before bursting into giggles. “You really are! Crowley. Crow. You’re like a bird, Crowley. You’re an internet twit.” He grinned, proudly.

Crowley furrowed his eyebrows in an effort to parse what just happened.

“And for that matter,” Aziraphale continued, “you said anything on the internet was forever. So by that logic, you _are_ talking about the eternity bird.”

“That was a great bloody leap to a foregone conclusion, Azirp, Az, Azangel.”

“My logic is flawless,” Aziraphale said with all the smugness and certainty of the highest order of angel, albeit slightly less murdery and holier-than-thou.

“And your sense of reasoning is pickled.”

“So is yours.”

Crowley sucked a sharp breath through his teeth. “Point taken.

A spotlight appeared before them, shining down on a chessboard table with three chairs that had not previously been there before.

“It’s the boss,” Crowley said, semi-not-at-all-actually-abruptly attempting to untangle himself from Aziraphale to sit upright as his legs scrambled into something only feasible to a roller-skating octopus. “Look busy!”

“I think She’s on to you, Crowley.”

“At least I’m verified in the eyes of Twitter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While trying to work out a way to bring some things together in the next chapters, it occurred to me that I couldn't pass this opportunity up. It was either throwing this interlude together or having no update today. I hope you don't mind.
> 
> [I regret nothing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JgLSKKU3ujU).
> 
> If you enjoyed this chapter, please feel free to check out my [Sozzled in Soho](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1429231) series of drunken bookshop rambling conversations.


	16. My Fairy King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God checks in 
> 
> Aziraphale comes up with a plan.

Crowley and Aziraphale felt the alcohol being purged from their systems as they got up to sit down at the chess table.

“So,” God spoke as She sat down in the seat between them, “Is there anything you would like to talk about?”

Crowley eyed Her warily, but said nothing.

“To what do we owe the pleasure, my Lord?”

“I thought it was the right time to check in with you.” She smiled at Aziraphale before she turned her head towards Crowley.

“Right,” Crowley said flatly, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

“_Crowley_,” Aziraphale admonished, eyes wide.

“A**_zira_**phale,” Crowley replied, hissing sarcastically.

“What do you think you’re _doing_?” Aziraphale loudly whispered.

“Wh… What are you whispering for, you idiot?” Crowley’s voice raised in pitch. “Do you think She can’t hear you, Aziraphale? She can hear _everything_. And She’s _sitting right bloody there_.” He pointed dramatically, not breaking eye contact with the angel.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale repeated with more sadness than before.

“_Aziraphale!_” Crowley threw his hands up in the air as he mockingly echoed the name in frustration. “She _knows_ everything, Aziraphale! She _knows_ what happened, and She _knows_ I _don’t want to talk about any of it!_ And now I can’t even enjoy being drunk because She took that away from me, too! And I put an awful lot of effort into that drunk. Everyone gets a choice, Aziraphale, but not me. I have to _give_ choices, but I don’t _get_ them. Not anymore. I don’t _get_ to choose.” He stood up. “Because if I did, I’d be damn close to telling Her to piss off and lock my heart back—” Crowley faltered slightly as he saw Aziraphale’s face fall. He tilted his head, whining a soft sigh of regret at his own choice of words before he started again, softer and with far more gentleness than before. “Because if I _did_, I wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

God tilted her head to the side slightly as she watched their interaction. “My beloved Crowley,” God soothed with all of the patience of a parent consoling a child through a tantrum. “Though we have been apart, you have always been Mine. I never stopped loving you.” She looked sadly at the chain around his neck. “But you are what you choose to be.”

“And what is that?” The demon asked, sharply, without looking up.

“Crowley.” God replied, simply.

“God’s Fallen Angel,” Aziraphale whispered. “How poetic.”

Crowley made a series of disgruntled and disgusted noises with just enough whining to be pitiful as he walked away to sit by himself. “I’m not having this conversation,” he muttered before yelling back, “Consider me off the blasted clock!”

Once again, while he knew it was difficult, Aziraphale hadn’t realized truly how _hard_ all of this had been on Crowley. Crowley, who had for thousands of years, held back and kept his emotions hidden until they flared out here and there. It wasn’t really a surprise at all, now that he thought about it. But that didn’t make it hurt less. It broke Aziraphale’s heart to see Crowley so upset as to behave like this directly in the face of God. It upset him even more that he hadn’t seen it coming when he felt that he should have known better.

He looked wistfully towards the demon across the room. Crowley was finishing off what had been left in the last bottle they had opened, looking to find a fresh one. While Aziraphale was happy to have a greater purpose in his life again, he realized that having Crowley with him had already been enough. There was too much at risk now that he was seeing things more openly. He had to do something.

Aziraphale turned to face God.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steadying himself. “You… You said he is what he _chooses_ to be. You didn’t say _chose_. Is… Is he still choosing?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It isn’t for you to do so.” Her voice was warm and comforting.

“But how can I help him?” Aziraphale was desperate for answers.

“You already are. Each time you connect, you leave pieces of one another behind, shared back and forth, making each other stronger. It began when you each took the other’s place to protect one another. Haven’t you noticed the changes in each other, Aziraphale?” She picked up the stacked checkers and the die and shook them together in Her hands, dropping them back down on the table. The black checker now had a gold crown on one side, and the red checker had a matching crown of white. The die, where once all the dots had been gold, now were joined with black and red. “Haven’t you noticed how your Holy water cools him and his Hellfire ignites you?”

Aziraphale, who had been too distracted to really think about that previously, realized suddenly that She was right.

“Was this your plan all along?”

“No, this was you two cleaning up your own mess. The rest was something new and wonderful that I had not anticipated until our last conversation.”

“Will it be enough? Am I enough?”

“He has to make this decision for himself, but he needs you to do your part. Show him how to understand love.”

“Crowley _IS_ love.” Aziraphale was surprised at his own boldly confident defiance, but continued speaking. “It fills him and bursts out of every little crack. He loves entirely, fully, and wholly. Surely you made him this way for a reason.”

She widened Her eyeless eyes, arching the notion of an eyebrow in amusement at the way Aziraphale spoke. It affectionately reminded Her of a certain former angel long ago. “I did.”

“Then why did he have to Fall?”

“He made a choice, Aziraphale. He made a choice and continues to choose it each day.”

“But he isn’t evil!”

“No, he isn’t.”

“Then why did you punish him?”

There was incredible sorrow in Her voice. “Perhaps the mirror cannot view itself.”

Aziraphale’s eyes grew wide. Could it truly be so simple?

_ “I’m not angry with you that you don’t like that.”_

_ “I am.”_

_ “I know.”_

God wasn’t angry with Crowley.

Crowley was angry with himself.

_ “I heard every prayer.”_

God never left Crowley.

Crowley still prayed. He still believed.

Crowley hadn’t lost faith in God.

Crowley had lost faith in _himself_.

** **

** **

From across the room, Crowley yelled, “Don’t think I don’t know you’re talking about me.” He was coming along nicely in the reduction of his sobriety.

God looked towards Crowley, Her shoulders somewhat lower than they had been before. She turned to Aziraphale, placing Her hand gently on his cheek and smiling with the laughter of a thousand children. He closed his eyes, leaning into Her kindness. When he opened them, she was gone.

** **

** **

** **

** **

** **

Aziraphale had no idea if this would work, but he had to try. He wanted, _needed_, to _be there _for Crowley. He wasn’t entirely certain of how to go about it, but he was absolutely sure he could try.

After a bit of consideration, and several days, the angel had come to a decision. He carefully and lovingly pulled a recording from his collection, placing it with reverence upon the Gramophone. Debussy's _Clair de Lune_. A bit on the nose, he worried. Still, he hoped, Crowley would at least see just enough significance in the selection without being so much that he might shut down. He wanted this to be as peaceful and loving an experience as he could possibly make it.

How many times had they lounged together, he reminisced, the words of the poem flowing from his lips as easily as fingers traced through the fiery strands hiding the serpentine eyes that stared up at him, hanging on each word? He had lost count.

He wondered why he hadn’t considered the significance in it before now.

Aziraphale stood in the center of the bookshop and took a deep breath. “Crowley, would you come here, please?”

The demon poked his head out of the back room. “Is everything all right, love?”

Aziraphale reached his arms out. “May I have this dance, my dear?”

Crowley smiled. “This and every one after.”

They moved gently to the music, holding one another.

“_Your soul is a chosen landscape,” _Crowley began to recite_, “Where charming masquerades and dancers are promenading.” _

_“Playing the lute and dancing,” _Aziraphale continued, pleased that not only had Crowley recognized the music, but was, albeit unknowingly, encouraging him to put the words to the poem behind it._ “And almost sad beneath their fantastic disguises.”_

“_While singing in a minor key of victorious love,” _Crowley smiled fondly as he spoke,_ “And the pleasant life.”_

Aziraphale pressed his forehead to Crowley’s. “_They seem not to believe in their own happiness_,” he breathed cautiously, _“And their song blends with the moonlight, with the sad and beautiful moonlight.”_

Aziraphale carefully released his wings behind him.

“Aziraphale, your wings…”

“It feels nice with them out. You should try it.”

Crowley brought out his wings.

They continued to dance, slowly embracing one another within their wings as they moved to the music.

Aziraphale lovingly brought Crowley’s hands up to lips, kissed them reverently. The angel placed them upon his chest, Crowley’s left hand over the demon’s own heart. He brushed a lock of hair off of Crowley’s forehead with his right hand, leaving his palm in place. Aziraphale took his own left hand and threaded his fingers through Crowley’s right hand. Softly and tenderly, Aziraphale whispered into Crowley’s lips, “Be still,” and kissed him as their lights began to glow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks. The penultimate chapter.
> 
> The next update will close out this story.  
  
This chapter was a little harder to get out than some of the others. Luckily, [SecondHandNews](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondHandNews/pseuds/SecondHandNews), who has [a new story arc](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1394677) coming out today, was the perfect angel to give inspiration to this demon.
> 
> [Clair de Lune by Debussy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvFH_6DNRCY) based on [Clair de Lune, a French poem written by Paul Verlaine in 1869.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clair_de_Lune_\(poem\))


	17. Bohemian Rhapsody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's Epiphany

An angel and a demon stood on top of a wall, looking out into the desert.

“Aziraphale, what have you—” Crowley lost his train of thought as he looked around.

Aziraphale smiled nervously back at him.

“This is Eden, isn’t it?” Crowley asked, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands as if he could simply rub the Garden out of his view.

“I do believe so, yes.”

“What are you playing at?”

“Well, if you must know—”

“YES, Aziraphale! I _must_ know!” Crowley wasn’t sure what was happening, but he thought he would probably be justified in getting irritated about it.

“I thought about some things that we’ve talked about recently, and—”

“And what?”

“And if you’d stop interrupting me, you’d already know!”

Crowley threw his hands up in exasperation. “Fine. What?”

Aziraphale took a deep breath. “I think there is something you haven’t considered, Crowley. Something very important.”

Crowley waited a moment to give Aziraphale an opportunity to continue before pressing for more information. “And that would be?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t…” He shook his head, letting out a series of incomprehensible noises before continuing. “You… You brought me into an Epiphany… to _not_ tell me something.”

“Broadly, yes.”

“Well, then! I suppose that’s all right, then! So now that I’ve _not_ been told, how do you suggest we get back? Because I certainly don’t know how to do it without resolving whatever we’re here for.”

Aziraphale hadn’t considered this. How had he possibly not considered this?

Crowley noticed the look of utter despair on the angel’s face. He growled and stomped his foot in frustration. He wanted to be cross with Aziraphale. He felt like he had every right to, but he couldn’t stay mad at him, not when he looked so sad. He wrapped his arms around the angel. “You had your reasons, didn’t you,” he said softly.

Aziraphale said nothing, but nodded affirmation.

“Well, since we’re here, we might as well take a walk through the Garden.”

“It _has_ been awhile since we’ve been here.”

As they walked, they reminisced about their time in Eden.

“You know, Crowley, I have to admit, I didn’t know what to think of you that day.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t think to smite me.”

“Oh, Crowley, don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not! I was actually surprised you didn’t, what with that whole apple business. I still don’t know what’s so bad about knowing right from wrong.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “I have an idea!” He grabbed Crowley by the hand and started to run towards the center of the Garden.

“Where are you taking me?” Crowley yelped, almost coming off of his feet when Aziraphale pulled at him.

“You’ll see,” Aziraphale said. _I hope_, he thought.

They came upon an apple tree.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale began, “When you convinced Eve to eat the apple, did you also try one?”

“Of course not. What was the point?”

“And you never thought about it?”

“Why should I? I already know right from wrong.”

“Are you certain about that, my dear? I seem to recall you saying that you couldn’t see what was so bad about knowing right from wrong the last time we stood together in this very garden.”

Crowley opened his mouth as if to respond, but found he had no response.

“And just moments ago, you said the exact same thing.”

“What are you getting at, Aziraphale?” Crowley eyed him suspiciously.

“So, my dear,” Aziraphale grinned seductively, “I believe the point I’m _getting at_ is that _you don’t know_.”

“I don’t know what?”

Aziraphale plucked an apple from the tree. “It looks quite nice, doesn’t it?” He raised his eyebrows and grinned at Crowley.

“Angel…”

Aziraphale walked around Crowley to stand on the other side. “I bet it’s delicious. Wouldn’t you like a taste? Just one little taste?”

“Are you trying to tempt me, Aziraphale?”

He leaned in to whisper in Crowley’s ear. “Bite the apple, Crowley.”

He shivered, eyes widening in confusion. “What has gotten into you?”

Aziraphale slid around to whisper into Crowley’s other ear. “Try it.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you want to know?” Aziraphale cooed.

“Yes, I want to know,” Crowley was getting nervous, but he didn’t quite know why.

“Try it.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Crowley scoffed without heat.

“Am I?”

“It’s not that simple, Aziraphale.”

“Try.”

“Aziraphale…”

“Bite it, Crowley. Bite the apple.”

“Aziraphale!” Crowley grabbed the angel by the hands. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“My dear,” the angel looked down into his own palm, smiling down at a whisper of a glowing memory contained within. Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand and placed his own inside of it, palm up. “Do you remember drawing stars in my hand?”

The demon smiled serenely. “I remember everything about that, Angel.”

“Then you… You remember telling me that I made you want to try?”

“Aziraphale—”

“Because you knew that I would catch you if…”

Crowley let out a low, plaintive whine.

“If you were to fall.”

His brow furrowed as he nodded.

“And, you also know” the angel wrapped his arms around the demon, “I would pick you back up,” their foreheads pressed together, “to help you try again?”

Crowley snorted a soft puff of breath in confirmation. He pulled the angel closer. “Always.”

  
An angel smiled as a demon took a bite from the apple.

Aziraphale pulled his head back slightly and opened his eyes. They were back in the bookshop, still dancing.

Everything felt the same as it did before.

_We still have each other_, Aziraphale thought,_ and that’s already more than I ever dreamed possible. If this truly is all we can have, It’s enough. But if I can give him more, I will continue to try. _He rested his head on Crowley’s shoulder, tightening his embrace along with his resolve.

Crowley pressed his cheek against Aziraphale. “I could do this forever,” he murmured, nuzzling gently.

Aziraphale shifted, pulling back to smile at him.

Crowley watched as Aziraphale’s smile fell away along with the rest of his expression. The angel’s jaw went slack as his eyes unfocused.

“Angel?”

Aziraphale blinked a few times.

“Crowley,” he breathed. “Oh, _Crowley!”_

They locked eyes, Aziraphale peering so intently that Crowley looked away, feeling too intensely seen.

Aziraphale’s hands were immediately on the sides of his face, tilting his head back to lock eyes once again, gently stroking his thumbs underneath them.

“Angel, I…”

Aziraphale let out a sound that was a cross between a small gasp and gentle sob. “You. You’re… Your… ” He couldn’t find the right words.

“What is it, Angel?”

“You…“ Aziraphale couldn’t stop touching Crowley’s face. “You’re an aardvark!”

“Are you drunk?” Crowley asked, slapping gently at Aziraphale’s fingers as they traced wildly around his eyebrows and cheeks.

“No,” he whispered in awe. “But possibly? I’ve not had a drop, but I feel,” he took a shaking breath, “as though I may very well be.” Aziraphale smiled blissfully, pressing his forehead to Crowley’s once again, laughing in between occasional joyous sobs.

“Angel, what is it? What’s going on? Please?”

“Your eyes,” he managed to choke out. “They’re miraculous.”

Crowley’s hands went up to his own face, his fingers climbing along his jaw up to his eyelids. He ran his tongue along his teeth as he moved to find a way to see what the angel meant. He gripped the counter tightly to keep from falling when he got to the bathroom mirror.

“That’s new.”

Crowley saw something he had never before seen gazing in dumbstruck splendor through the mirror. The eyes that had cruelly stared back at him for his entire existence on Earth, once coldly acid yellow and hot blood red with sharply narrow slit pupils, were nowhere to be found. In their place were two beacons in the night, soothing and warm in their beckoning safety and comfort. They were a midnight bonfire, dark and richly brown around the edges, dancing with incandescent flecks of golden firelight further in. But that wasn’t the truly incredible part. Looking inside of the now-round pupils was like looking through a high-powered telescope into the night sky. He saw an entire universe glittering with once-forgotten divinity, a cosmos full of stars swirling in every color imaginable throughout creation. What previously had been a harsh, sharp, terror-dark void was now softened and filled, much like his very own stellar creations, with life, light, and love. It was almost too much to look at for more than a few fleeting moments before he was overcome.

Though Crowley had never seen his own eyes before his Fall, he remembered his wings. Quickly, he released them.

There they were, the same glossy black feathers that he had always had, but there was something more. Tiny jewels of every color imaginable glittered across the feathers, catching the light as he moved. His wings were once more covered in stardust. It had all burned away during his Fall. He thought he’d never see it again.

“He found my stars,” Crowley whispered as he dropped to his knees, palms up, and openly wept.

_“Was this your plan all along?”_

_“No, this was you two cleaning up your own mess. The rest was something new and wonderful that I had not anticipated until our last conversation.”_

_ “I helped build that one.”_

_“Lots of spare planets up there. No one would even notice us”_

_ “You made such lovely stars. I would have liked to have watched you hang them.” _

_“Do you mean it?”_

_ “I will remember this moment.”_

_“It feels real.”_

_ “You are more Holy than you will ever admit.”_

_ “You lit up my darkness.”_

_ “ I see you.”_

_ “Angel.”_

_“If you fall…”_

_“I know you’ll catch me.” _

_ “When you are reduced to your base elements, I will build you up stone by stone.”_

_“**That’s us.**_

_ ** “I love you.” ** _

_ **“I love you.”**_

_ **“Always.”**_

Humans had been carving their devotions into surfaces all over the earth for as long as there had been written language. Vows etched into bands of gold, promises traced into clay, initials carved into trees, and many other varying and fascinating ways and means to be found throughout time. For some, it was a proof that they had ever existed at all. It was longevity and leaving something of themselves behind. For others, it might be a promise of fidelity and devotion, a way to say, “I am yours and you are mine.” And there were even those who found a unique, illicit act of defiance in placing their mark, for whatever reason, on an object found. It was a way to identify themselves and stake claim, visible or not, to defy arbitrary rules and hold something as their own regardless of how it was formed or what side it might have originally belonged.

For Aziraphale and Crowley, it was all of these reasons and more. It was a declaration. It was a way to shout to all of Creation, _“I have found that which completes me, which breaks me down to my base matter and builds me back up into something stronger and better and **more**! Eternally am I fulfilled with the growing capacity of every enduring moment! I have known love, and am forever changed! I am wholly completed! Hell no longer to suffer, and Heaven no longer to compare! My soul agape for eternity, through my immortal beloved, I am set free!”_

It should come as little surprise to the reader that, in the far away system of **A**lpha **C**entauri, a pair of binary stars had been carved out to be refilled with stardust and divinity, one each, with the initials A+C.

** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end.
> 
> Please see chapter 18 (The next chapter) for my Author's Notes as well as a digital painting I did of what Crowley looks like with his stars.


	18. Author's Note and Illustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note and Illustration

This story began with a random idea about what would happen if Crowley and Aziraphale hadn’t actually needed to do a switch because they had been around one another so much, away from Heaven and Hell, and on Earth together for so long that they really had begun to blend in energy just by defaulting towards the closest supernatural energy available to one another.  
At first, I had planned for it to be short, maybe 5-7 chapters, under 10k words, and mostly silly. These were my initial plot points that I copied down and started writing.  
• A dog runs through a baptismal font, runs out, and shakes all over Crowley  
• Aziraphale wonders what Hellfire would do to him and his hand catches fire. Alcohol was involved.  
• God visits them in a dream and unlocks Crowley’s heart (Hand on heart-He cries)/Aziraphale’s confidence (hand on head-he smiles)  
• Gabriel falls (BIG ANGRY!!! RAWR!)  
• Michael rests (I dunno, busybody?)  
• Uriel awakens (??? Figure this out)  
• Sandalphon just kind of sits there  
• Hastur heals (Ligur stuff)

But as I started writing, it got bigger and more intricate. Once I got into chapter 3, I started pre-writing out more plot bunnies so I could start dropping items I could call back on in later chapters because I knew I wanted to expand on what I began. I liked writing this because I liked building up to something. I’ve only ever written short stories under 5k words in the past. I thought about stories I’ve read or watched and how much I loved it when elements were introduced early on, but continued to be expanded upon as the work progressed. I decided I wanted to do that.  
It was important to me to really try for the actual concepts of compassion and of perspective, or at least how I personally view them, while writing this. Perspective often takes time, as we rarely know up front everything that is going to happen and why. We gain perspective by learning about it, either by being taught or experiencing it ourselves. Compassion can happen without reason. It isn’t necessarily something taught as much as it is just an equivocation of feelings. No two situations are going to be identical, but we often project how we felt about something personal in our lives onto the experiences of other people.  
Some of you may have noticed that throughout past chapters, I’ve been peppering in some lines taken from the miniseries, but giving them to the wrong character, as well as a few personality trait changes. That has been very much intentional. If you hadn’t picked up on that before, now you know why.  
The choice of the game pieces, for anyone who was wondering, is also intentional. Crowley was represented by two checkers, a red and black, stacked as a King. In actual checkers, a Kinged checker is two of the same color, but Crowley never was one for rules. This also represents that he was two entities, an angel and a demon. The two checkers further go on to represent two sides to an argument working together. Aziraphale was represented by a white six-sided die with gold dots to represent the many sides and values of perspective. Once the pieces began to blend, we could see further that Compassion and Perspective aren’t all that dissimilar.

And now, as a thank you for reading, I'd like to present to you [Crowley now that he has his stars back.](https://amadness2method.tumblr.com/post/187147660306/crowley-as-an-angel-an-illustration-i-made-for-my)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [(Fan art) Crowley, the Angel With Stars In His Eyes and Stardust On His Wings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20335741) by [CynSyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynSyn/pseuds/CynSyn)


End file.
